Moonstone Promise (16 page)

‘Woohooo! It's gonna be a wild, wild horse race this year,' laughed the gate man gleefully, as Chocky lashed at him with a hind leg.

Luke approached the other man. ‘What's happening with those ones?' he asked, pointing into Rusty's yard.

‘Those ones?' The man pursed his lips and thought about it. ‘Not good for much, probably go on an overseas holiday.'

‘Holiday?'

‘They'll get sold for human consumption. The foreigners love 'em,' said the man.

‘People eat horses?'

‘They your dogs?' a stockman yelled at Luke.

In another yard, Filth and Fang were lurking about the heels of some cattle, sending them scurrying about the yard. Fang growled and snapped, while Filth slunk around with his ears back, dodging hooves.

‘Nuh, never seen them before,' said Luke, just as Filth bounded over to him with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and a stupid grin on his doggy face.

‘Get out of here, you mongrel thing,' Luke growled. Fang joined Filth, and the two pups pawed at his bare legs, whimpering.

‘Hey, dingo boy! Can my cousin play with your pups?' called the boy on the grey as he rode up to the yard.

‘Never seen them before, ay?' the stockman drawled.

Luke shrugged. ‘Give you a hundred bucks for that red colt in there,' he offered.

‘Yeah, righto.' The man answered so quickly that Luke was sure he would have taken half that.

He looked at the mare, bursting with foal, with sunken flanks and hollows above her eyes. She didn't look good at all. And they were going to truck her to an abattoir.

‘How much for the whole pen?'

The man looked at Luke as if he was nuts. ‘Gotta feed those pups of yours, ay?' Then he laughed and shrugged. ‘Hundred'll cover it, if you want 'em that bad, kid.'

‘Can I pay you after the draft?'

‘Yeah, s'pose.'

Luke automatically held out his plastered hand to shake but pulled himself up just in time. ‘Hang on.' He held out his left hand and offered an awkward cack-handed shake.

The man punched his knuckles. ‘They're all yours, mate.'

19

LUKE WALKED BACK
to his tree, his mind whirling.

He had to get some prize money. Where on earth was Bob?
God, I hope he's got me a ride. I hope he's got some
spare clothes!

Somewhere a barbecue was heating up and the smell of cooked beef wafted through the air. Luke's stomach growled hungrily. He fingered the fifty in his pocket, knowing he would need it if he didn't get a ride. He wondered how much the prize money was.

He walked to the secretary's tent, behind the rodeo chutes, and took a program. It wasn't big money – a hundred bucks to win the junior, two-fifty for the maiden. And he had no idea what horse Bob might come up with.

The waft of eggs and bacon hit him as he left the tent. He began to salivate.

‘Smells pretty good, doesn't it,' he said to the pups whimpering at his heels. ‘Come on, I'll shout you.'

Luke sat under his tree and tore open the bag around one of two burgers. He gave it to the pups, who chewed it eagerly. ‘Better than sheep guts, ay, Filth,' he said, biting into the other, closing his eyes and drowning in the sheer heaven of it.

He watched the showgrounds come to life. Trucks and utes and four-wheel drives rolled in until the grounds were choked with vehicles. An announcer started calling for late entries over a crackling loudspeaker.

The kid on the grey rode over with two other children, a girl and a boy, sitting behind the saddle. ‘See those pups? They been eating sheep guts,' he told them proudly. ‘You shoulda seen 'em puking everywhere. And that yellow one, he crapped all over the place.'

‘Orr, deadly,' laughed the boy.

‘Ewww,' complained the girl.

‘Hey, Dingo, you riding in the draft?'

‘My name's Luke.'

‘You riding in the draft, Dingo Luke?'

‘Depends if my ride ever gets here,' he answered. ‘Do you know Bob Stockman? I'm waiting for him to get here.'

‘Yeah, yeah, we know Bob, don't we?' the boy said, turning to the other two children.

‘Yeah, yeah, Bob Stockman,' they chorused. ‘And Paulie Stockman too.'

‘I know Ted Stockman and old Frank Stockman,' said the girl.

‘And Perry Stockman.'

‘And One-eye Willy Stockman, him too.'

‘Big family,' Luke commented.

‘Oh no, they not kin, they all just stockmen!'

‘Okay,' said Luke, wondering if anyone really knew Bob, his Bob.

‘Hey, you can ride my dad's horses. He can't ride. He got his eye all cut up at the hospital and now he can't see straight. His horses are just tied to the truck sleeping all day.'

‘Who's your dad?'

‘He's
Pete
Stockman,' said the kid proudly.

‘Is he an artist, by any chance?' asked Luke, beginning to feel confused.

‘What?'

‘Nothing.'

The man from the hospital waiting room walked up behind the kids. He had a large pair of sunglasses on and Luke could see a white patch under one of the lenses. The man slung an arm over the rump of the grey horse.

‘Dad, Dingo Luke can ride your horses, get your prize money for you!'

The man nodded to Luke. ‘You were at the hospital.'

Luke pointed to his plastered arm and nodded.

‘You looking for a ride?' the man asked.

‘Well, yeah,' said Luke. ‘My ride hasn't turned up. Entries close any minute.'

‘You any good? Can you handle a stallion?'

‘No worries.'

‘With that arm?'

Luke stopped, unsure. Not only was he reduced to one hand, but it was his left hand. ‘Should be okay if he neck-reins.'

It must have been the right answer, because Pete nodded. ‘Wanna ride the young ones? Go easy on 'em, just give 'em a run?'

‘Yeah, yeah, for sure.'

‘Go halves in the money?'

‘Great. How many horses you got?'

Pete led him to a small white truck with four horses tethered to it. Luke looked over Pete's entry forms and realised he could enter two horses in the junior event as well.

‘Sure, sure,' said Pete. ‘Take the mare and the gelding in it. Better get your entries in quick, ay!'

Luke raced to the secretary's tent with the two pups leaping and bounding alongside him. He picked up the form and when he saw the date at the top he paused and stared at it. October thirty-first.

Sweet sixteen, hey? Happy birthday to me.

Luke messily filled out a form with his left hand and paid an extra late fee.

He walked back to the truck via the cattle yards and stopped to look in on the brumbies. The little mare looked fuller in the flanks and more comfortable already. All four horses stood close together with their ears flicking back and forth, ready to take flight at the slightest provocation.

Rusty still had the rope around his neck and Luke could see that he had cuts up the side of one front leg.

‘I'll get you out of there soon, Rusty,' he said with a quiet intensity.

‘Can you get that pup outta there?' demanded a voice. ‘Better tie 'em both up, hey?'

Luke hopped up on the rail and saw Fang, swinging off the nostril of a large red bullock. The bullock roared and flung its head around, but Fang held on for all it was worth.

‘Fang!' Luke yelled. He looked earnestly at the irate stockman. ‘He's honestly not my dog!'

‘Well, I'm gonna shoot it if you don't get it out of there, real quick,' the man grumbled.

The bull flung Fang clear over the rail. He landed with a yelp and scrambled to his feet. Luke pounced and dragged him away by the scruff of the neck.

‘What am I going to do with you?'

Back at the truck, Pete saw them coming and opened the hatch of a small mesh box behind the mudguard. ‘Chuck it in the dog box,' he said.

Luke shoved the pup in and Pete snapped a padlock on it. He turned to Luke. ‘You got some clothes to put on? We got dress regs up here, you know.'

Pete had changed into a fancy black western shirt with white piping around the yoke, tucked neatly into his jeans. His boots looked freshly polished and his hat had been dusted off.

‘My friend was going to bring me some,' said Luke.

‘Hey, what happened to you, Dingo Luke?' asked the little boy, still sitting on the grey horse. ‘You been wrestling them buffalo up north or something?'

Luke winked at him and ran a hand over his lumpy ribs. ‘Yep. Real nasty he was.' He fingered the scab on his shoulder. ‘And this one was from a wild fella who tried to knife me. Before I'd even had breakfast.'

‘He got you good, Dingo Luke!'

‘He sure did . . . what's your name?'

‘Toby!' the boy said, wheeling his horse about and raising his hat. ‘Toby Stockman, and this 'ere is my horse, Greybo!'

‘Of course,' laughed Luke.

‘You can ride with me if you want, Buffalo Luke!'

‘Sure, Toby Stockman, I'd like that.'

Pete came out from the front of the truck with some jeans and a football jersey in his hands. ‘These might fit you.'

‘Cheers,' said Luke with relief.

Pete looked him up and down briefly, then shook his head.

‘Don't ask,' said Luke.

‘Don't worry, I ain't going to,' said Pete. ‘You wanna give all these horses a ride, find out what they're like, see how you go one-handed?' He began to untie the black mare.

Luke pulled the jersey over his head and stepped into the jeans. They were a bit baggy, but fine. ‘Sure, let's go!'

20

LUKE GAVE ALL FOUR
of Pete's horses a quick ride while the ladies' event was on, and was pleasantly surprised. The black mare was soft and responsive and neck-reined well. Luke had more trouble steering the gelding with only one hand, but got along better once he tied the reins in a knot and held onto that. The stallion was wary and nervous and Luke resolved to give him a good workout before his event to settle him down. The fourth horse was an old white mare, who was a bit slow but had clearly been to a draft or two. As Luke jumped off and gave her a pat, he felt confident that he could win at least a couple of hundred dollars.

He rode over to the practice area on the black mare and helped Toby practise for the little kids' class, teaching him how to ride mirrors. They faced their horses nose to nose, and as Luke legged the mare to the left and then to the right, Toby mirrored every move with Greybo. When Luke began to zip back and forth quickly and erratically, as a cornered steer would do, the little horse locked on beautifully.

‘Now go out there and win,' Luke told Toby, as they rode over to the arena.

Toby blitzed it in the camp. He picked a small, runty black steer that moved quickly, but Greybo was all over it. Out in the arena he got two pegs and won the event. He puffed out his chest like a rooster's when he went to collect his trophy. Pete and Luke cheered madly from the sidelines.

Luke had at least another hour before his first event started. He wandered over to the tree and took his boots off. A warm breeze blew gently over him, lifting the hairs on his arms and giving him goosebumps.

He wriggled his feet down into the smooth, silty dirt and planted them, really planted them, connecting, drawing on the strength that he found in the land. He took a long, slow breath and felt it blow away the shadows of his past. He thought of iron-age warriors, with the strength of horses and the cunning of wolves, and he drew on their power. A warrior-like energy grew inside him, bold, courageous and strategic.