Page 67 of Back in the Saddle

“Mrytle.” Taylor had her arms in the air and started running on the spot.

Capall, being a gelding, had much more respect than the crazy mare. When he realised we were both calling, he cantered over.

“Good boy,” I said, hugging him around the neck before giving him a treat. His soft muzzle brushed my fingers. I put his halter on and led him to the tack room.

Myrtle, on the other hand, ambled on over like walking slow was the competition. I laughed at Taylor’s exasperated expression.

We saddled up and started along the side of the road toward the river. When I’d first arrived here, the paddocks were so vibrant it was like green on steroids. Now they were lacklustre at best, but mostly brown, and some paddocks were just dirt. Some days, I didn’t even notice the desolate paddocks anymore; it was a part of our norm.

We’d had droughts before, but this was one of the longest. And there was no end in sight. The only thing I could tell myself was that with each day that passed, we were one day closer to rain. It didn’t help the empty feeling every time I paid attention to the paddocks. But it did help to remind me that the drought wouldn’t last forever. If not for that hope, what would be the point of going on?

I glanced at Taylor beside me. How many days had we spent like this early on, when days off were actually days off? Too many to count.

There was no grass here on the verge of the roadway. When it rained, we’d be mowing here every fortnight.

We were lucky we could still irrigate some paddocks. It was one of the reasons we had survived. The paddocks beside us still had horses - ten to a paddock.

Every horse on the farm had to be fed one scoop of feed morning and night, plus six bales of hay every day for each paddock. It all added up. If we weren’t in drought, we’d onlyfeed the pregnant mares half a scoop a day so they could get the vitamins and minerals they needed, and they’d eat grass the rest of the time.

The drought levy we’d introduced was another reason we’d made it this far. We’d had no choice; feed had quadrupled in price, and we couldn’t afford to cover that.

So, the fact that we had client horses was a huge advantage. If it was just our horses, we’d be in a whole world of hurt. At least with clients, we still had some money coming in. It didn’t mean it was easy to balance, though…just easier.

We walked past, heading to the river, lost in our own thoughts. For so long I’d wished we talked, and, in this moment, I was content not doing so.

I loved watching Taylor ride. She was so relaxed, moving seamlessly with Myrtle. I don’t think any other rider could handle her sassiness and moods. Capall was more my type—chill.

Farmers were destocking all over the region. Horses, sheep and cattle. A one-year drought, farmers hedge their bets and feed their cattle. Two years and it becomes harder to sustain as prices of feed goes up. Agistment could be an option, but transporting horses to farms interstate was expensive. Next came destocking. They would start with the steers, move to the cull heifers and they would keep going, holding onto their breeding stock for as long as they could. Same with horses. Breeding stock was what was important in the end.

Non-farmers didn’t realise rain wouldn’t be an instant miracle cure. It would take five years to recover from a drought like this. Five years for farmers to recover financially and rebuild their herds. We were lucky we were not at the stage of reducing the herd yet. Not every stud in the area had been that fortunate.

I took a breath. It was time to have the conversation we were probably both avoiding but should have had long ago. The factthat we hadn’t talked about it had added extra strain to our relationship. We couldn’t keep hiding.

Time to suck it up. “We need to talk about the drought and the farm.”

Taylor’s fingers tightened on the reins. She didn’t say a word, only stared straight ahead. This was bullshit. Apart from our failed marriage, the drought was one of the biggest problems we’d ever had to face.

I squared my shoulders. “We should have spoken about it months ago.”

She straightened her back. “I’m fully aware of that.”

Mrytle’s ears flattened back. Taylor must have tensed. She probably thought I was having a go at her. And if I had to admit it, in a small way, I was. Her closing me out still irked me to this day, even though I’d forgiven her for most things.

“Why didn’t we?” I tried to make my voice gentle because arguing wasn’t going to get us anywhere.

“Need I remind you that we didn’t talk about much?” she retorted.

So much for us not having resentment. How much longer would it rear up for? I pressed my feet down into the stirrups as if I was preparing for a rough ride. We needed time to tame those feelings. This was one of those times I needed to speak up.

“No, you don’t need to fucking remind me. Just like you don’t have to bite my head off for wanting to talk now.”

We walked along in stubborn silence. I lifted my hand to my face and squeezed my temples. This was getting us nowhere. I’d tried to be gentle. I’d tried to be firm. Neither had the result I wanted. Fucking hell. This was my fault.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve stayed quiet for too long and now that I’m speaking up, it feels like an attack or an accusation or anything in between. It’s not.”

Taylor nodded. “OK. Let’s talk.”

I relaxed my legs and feet. Mrytle’s ears returned to a forward position.

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