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‘Farrier’s shop,’ indicated Magnus David, ‘there’s one for each building. Sand rolls.’ He was walking crisply, and Paddy had to hurry to keep up with him, ‘for after their dip in the pool. Pool’s over there.’ He pointed to a shining rectangle of water, as good as any human pool but different in its construction, for it was much deeper and its sides steeper, and instead of steps there was a ramp. ‘Occasionally we take the fellers to the coast,’ Magnus told her. ‘It’s not too far and there’s nothing a horse likes better than catching a wave.

‘Kitchen.’ They were passing another building now. ‘No, not for the hands but for the horses. Magic formulas are concocted in there—glucose, iron, calcium, secret ingredients to achieve astonishing results.’

He walked on. ‘Fodder,’ he said next. ‘Dispensary. Surgery.’

‘Delivery room?’ Paddy came in pertly, hoping to catch him out.

‘Yes, we have one, of course, though Yoothamurra soon found, like other studs, that the most successful labours turn out to be the natural ones in the field. Indeed, most mares refuse to foal elsewhere.

‘This is how I instruct the boys to maintain a stable.’ He had turned her into a large box, then followed.

Sweet and clean. They were the first words that came to Paddy. She drew a deep breath in pleasure, and hoped he did not notice it. It was all perfectly arranged and perfectly kept. In the storage comer, safely out of the reach of a curious horse who might harm itself, was a barrow, shovel, broom and fork, neatly stacked. Straw was distributed evenly over the surface, but pushed higher round the four walls against injury. A window was set at a right height.

‘Very comfortable,' Paddy's voice came stiffly; she was afraid that if she did not hold herself aloof she would enthuse, and she had no intention of enthusing to this man.

Magnus David raised his brows at her curt commendation, then took her out and led her to a small walking ring. She saw several hands leading horses but she did not see the boys, so asked about them.

‘I told you they were on an exercise. They’ll be away all the morning. This is not a track, of course, it’s just a first limber-up. After they do a few rounds they’ll go on to the smaller trial track.’

‘Little by little,’ she agreed, still in the tight voice.

He glanced obliquely at her, then said: ‘Yes, little by little, I’m a believer in that. Well, I think that’s all, except ’

‘Except?’

For answer he nodded for Paddy to follow him.

She did not go entirely unwillingly, though she was still determined to conceal any interest. Already she could see why the boys had been won over ... why, if she did not hold back she could be won over herself. It was the sweetness and cleanness of everything, it was the magnificence of gentle, magnificent animals. But no, she was not going to be won, Mr David.

As he walked, Magnus David talked.

‘Mark, our fifteen-year-old’ ...
our?
... ‘has all the early signs of a good breaker.'

‘Horse-breaker?’

‘Yes. He has the hands.’ He stopped abruptly, stopping Paddy with him. He took her hands and examined them.

Still holding them, consciously or unconsciously Paddy did not know, he went on.

‘The fellers are wild and raw when they come here, and then it starts. The blindfold over the near side eye to teach a horse not to kick, the first feel of the bridle, the most important rule of all: “Teach, not force.” ’

‘And Mark has this gift?’ Paddy released herself from his grasp.

‘Yes.’ Magnus had started walking again, so Paddy walked, too. She walked beside him to a small fenced paddock, then looked where he was looking.

It was a nice enough mare that he indicated, and the foal beside her was nice enough, too, but surely nothing to bring her over especially to see.

‘She’s blind,’ he said.

‘Blind?’

‘The mare Melisande can’t see her foal. Look, I’ll bring her up.’ He climbed the fence and walked to the mare. Paddy, who had noted that the small field was empty except for the mother and child, understood why now.

Magnus David took hold of the mare and enticed Melisande across to the rail. The little foal came, too. When Melisande was close, Magnus indicated two blank, cream-coloured eyes without any flicker or ripple of movement.

‘She was born blind. Useless horseflesh, one might have said, except that she’s an excellent mother. Instead of impairing her ability to produce good foals, it seems to have enhanced it. We first knew by accident... oh, yes, these illegitimate births do occur at times even in the best regulated studs. To our embarrassment Melisande dropped a foal by Big Harry, one-time Melbourne Cup winner, and a paying guest here for a resting season. About to remove the atom for its own safety, we saw that Melisande could manage very well, thank you.’

‘But how?
How?’
asked Paddy.

‘I’ll never know. I think she has some sort of built-in antenna. Also, apart from never hurting a small one, she never hurts herself. She always pulls up within a few feet of danger.’

‘And her foal ’

‘Over-mothered,’ grinned Magnus David. ‘The young ’uns are pretty fleet-footed at that age, but Mum keeps up with them, makes them mind their manners. I always keep Melisande in the same field, it’s the least I can do, and I vow she knows every tuft of grass. Indeed, nothing worries her so long as she can hear her child. Silence from baby is the only time she’ll panic. If she can’t hear anything she’ll run in circles to disturb the little one in whatever it’s doing to make it look up and catch up.’

‘It’s wonderful.’ Paddy had to say it. She felt his eyes on her now, not on the blind mare, and she turned away, trying to conceal her emotion at the sightless mother.

He was looking quizzically at her. ‘Well, that at least took some of the starch out of you,’ he said.

‘It’s very kind of you to show me.’ His words had stiffened her again, and taking her withdrawal as a cue for himself, he shrugged.

‘Not so kind, I do quite well out of her. She’s an excellent parent.’

That was more in keeping with the man she believed she knew, Paddy asked coolly: ‘From what you’ve said I gather this foal is not Melisande’s first?’

‘No, that was Big Harry’s boy—I told you. Also the shining hope of Yoothamurra, our candidate for the Golden Downs Cup and the Plantation Plate. I’ll give you one look only, he’s precious stuff.’ He was fairly running back to the stables, and if Paddy had had to hurry before, now she fairly raced.

He opened up a door of a stable and stood back as Paddy looked in.

The horse was barely brown, more the polished colour of young acorns. It had incredibly soft, dark-gold eyes. It was beautiful. It was heartwarmingly beautiful from its soft ears to its agile, flicking feet. It came straight to Paddy and nuzzled her, and she was aware and unashamed of tears pricking her eyes, stealing down her cheeks.

‘He’s lovely.’

‘And an error. Not so the foal, she came from Quick as Lightning, another Cup winner, but she was planned. She has no name yet, but this boy is Into the Light. He was to have been called Son of Darkness, or something of the sort, but I stood out for the other.’

Into the Light. The sun came muted into the brown box, because of the higher-set window it sent amber shadows around the walls, a kind of amber nimbus. All at once Paddy was closing her eyes, feeling a strange rush of something she had never known before, and could not have explained now ... a kind of inexplicable sweetness.

Into the Light. She was opening her eyes again and meeting Magnus David’s eyes, meeting them with a half-question ... turning her own glance away before he could answer that question, turning into the light again of the world outside.

‘Inspection concluded,’ she heard him say as though a long way off. ‘Do you want me to return you to the house?'

‘Not if it’s the same way as I came.’

‘It would have to be if you can’t ride. Now by this time next week ...’

‘I’ll walk, thank you.’ Without another word, Paddy started off.

As she passed the small paddock she saw the blind Melisande and the little foal cantering together. She walked to the railing and called to the mare, and it came over. She fondled its nose, told her she had just seen its firstborn and he was a fine fellow. Then, conscious that someone was watching her, she set quickly off again, not turning round for a full minute to check.

When she did turn round she could have cried with annoyance that she had done so. For Magnus David was still standing by the fodder room watching her. Watching her turn round to see him, no doubt.

This time Paddy did not turn until she reached the house.

It was a very quiet house without the wards. Without the boss, too, she supposed, for the little she had to do with him so far had given no indication of his being a silent man. Far from it, she thought ruefully. She listened for sounds of the man who did for him now doing for him, but could hear nothing. She turned her attention to her own regime.

She would have liked to have known more about the boys. According to her Closer Families training it was the only way a house-mother could become closer. She decided to study their room with the idea of learning something of their personalities, not a very bright idea, she knew, when she did not know which bed served which, but... and a smile ... at least she would be aware of Jockey Paul’s corner, because his pyjamas would be smaller. About to try this, Paddy saw an envelope on the floor at the door that led into Magnus David’s side, and crossed and took it up. There was no note, but the contents contained potted histories of each of the four, so good marks at least, Mr David, Paddy awarded, for that.

She made a jug of coffee and sat at the table and studied the notes. All four, she ascertained, were orphans. Deliberate on David’s part, or had it simply happened like that ? If the wards’ parents were still alive, then that ruled out any likelihood of uninterrupted guardianship, but if they were parentless, then the guardian stood a good chance of retaining them for a long period. Very handy for Mr David, Paddy thought, putting aside a possibility that the boys might have turned out a liability and not an asset to him.

All four had gone through the accepted lower school grades quite satisfactorily, though none had shown any inclination to continue their studies to tertiary level. Of course not, snorted Paddy, Magnus David would not need a scientist or professor around the place.

You’re being unfair, a little deep down voice accused Paddy, but she refused to listen.

She saw that there were none of the obvious medical things to watch for, like spring colds, rashes from wool near the skin, red spots after strawberries or tendencies to bronchitis, and put the data down. How little
really
it all revealed. How much different it was with actual children than children written up in a book.
He
had said that, he had told her you could teach a man to fly on paper but he wouldn’t like to be a passenger on the first take-off. Very wise, Mr David, she shrugged, only this take-off is going to be different, I’m going to make it succeed. It’s going to be hard with a quartet of horse-obsessed juniors, but I’ll still show you.

Though how,
how
? she wondered. She looked up at the pictures of the finishes of races, of framed winners decked in their colours, and, about to sigh, grinned instead. If you can’t lick ’em, join ’em, she thought.

When the two youngest arrived back some hours later, followed soon after by the other pair, Paddy did just that.

They had dinner ... Paddy had only to heat it ... to the tune of the racing ability of Winged Beauty, half-sister to Roman Prince, compared to Billy Boy, brother of In Pursuit, and somewhere in the chatter Paddy found she was joining in, too. It made it easier for her to insert a few questions of her own as to where the seniors had ridden today, what they would study tonight... oh, yes, they must study, who ever heard of a trainer who could not account for himself on paper. She asked the schoolboys their grades and their subjects.

It all went well.

After the meal she superintended homework and study until it was time for bed. To her surprise, for this was one thing psychology had not yet licked, they all went off cheerfully at her bidding. She soon learned why. Richard said:

‘You have to have lashings of sleep when you’re in this kind of job.’

She put their bathroom light out, put their dormitory light out, gave the unit a final check, then retired to her own suite. It was too early for bed for her, she thought; after all, she was no adolescent intending to train or ride or exercise a horse tomorrow.

‘Psst!’

The sound came from the window, the window through which early this morning she had looked back at an eye. A boy again ?

No, it was not a boy, it was Magnus David. He was hissing to her from his own window. Annoyed, for she hated being alerted like that, Paddy unwillingly went across.

‘In bed?’ he asked.

‘The boys?’

‘Well, not you,’ he jeered.

'Then yes.’

‘All well?’

‘Naturally.’

‘Very smug about it, aren’t you?’ he commented.

‘No, just assured of my ability.’

‘How nice.’

Paddy sighed. ‘Did you hiss me over to say that?’

‘No, to tell you that tomorrow we’ll do the plantation.’

‘Oh, yes'. I’d like that.’

‘I hadn’t finished,’ he went on. ‘On horseback.’

‘What?’ she gasped.

‘I think you heard me.’

‘Yes, I heard you, but you can’t be serious. I told you I’d never ridden, and it must be miles away.’

'Thirty kilometres by twisting road, five by eagle, eight along our track.’

‘I couldn’t do it,’ Paddy protested.

‘It’s an excellent way to learn, it’s a reasonable grade down.’

‘But if we go down, we must come up,’ she said dryly.

‘Yes, but by then you’ll be an experienced rider, Miss Travis, and take the stumps and fallen logs and roots and squelchy bits and outcrops like a veteran.’