Page 18 of A Home Among the Snow Gums
Lionel, who so far on the trip had proved himself to be a man of few words, spoke up. ‘No-one’ll be having a laugh if you get disqualified.’
‘You ever do campdrafting yourself, Lionel?’
‘Not on horseback, but I cracked the whip a time or two at local comps if the call came out for volunteers. Weekend travel wasn’t an option back when I had the feed store.’
‘Yeah. Weekend travel isn’t an option for me that often either. Josh—my brother—and I take it in turns to be on call.’
‘Nothing wrong with sticking local,’ said Kev. ‘But the legends of the sport, they travel. You get good enough, you’ll want to do it too. Some hard driving, sure, but then a weekend spent camping in a swag, your horse near enough so you can hear him dozing under a tree. Talk around the fire after the events are done, a bit of romance when the stars come out …’
‘Sounds like something from the last century.’
‘Well, that’s its appeal, love. Horses and riders, not computers and wifi extenders and all that other password-hashtag rubbish.’
She smiled. ‘Been having trouble with technology at home, Kev?’
He ignored her, and must have decided he was done with philosophy, because he switched into trainer mode. ‘You’ll want to watch the others do the cut out, Hannah. Try to avoid the cattle they’re avoiding; you don’t want a slug and you don’t want one that’s too geed up. Pick the right beast and you’ll get through the gate a whole lot easier.’
He’d been drumming these rules into her head for weeks. ‘Will do.’
‘And pick a steer over a heifer. The steers aren’t as cantankerous.’
‘You know that’s sexist, don’t you, Kev?’
He grunted. ‘Don’t get uppity with me, Hannah Cody.’
The coil in her gut relaxed as she laughed and leant forward to give him a light whack to the arm. ‘Flatterer. What are you two old codgers going to do while I make a fool of myself in the maiden round?’
‘My prize student make a fool of herself? Not on your nelly. Besides, I reckon that horse of yours has the draft in his blood. He’ll get you through.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
‘Enough of that backchat, young lady. I know potential when I see it.’
‘Kev. First up, I’m not that young.’
‘When you’re on the shady side of seventy, Hannah Cody, you’ll know what young is and what young isn’t.’
She grinned. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Here’s the turn. Well, look out. Someone’s gone and fancied up this paddock some.’
Some? The locals who looked after the Dalgety Showgrounds had more than fancied the place up. An arch above the wide gate flew with banners advertising food trucks, fairy floss, live music. Cars were backed up ahead of them and horse floats were everywhere, their licence plates not just local or Victorian but from Queensland, too.
Her gut coiled again. ‘Kev, you told me this was a little event. “A school fete on horseback” were your exact words.’
‘And so it was, Hannah, pet, last time I was here. When would that’ve been, Lionel?’
‘Dunno, mate … 1970? Probably about the same year you bought that rag on your head that used to be a hat.’
‘No-one would know if we did a U-turn and drove back up the mountain.’
‘She’s jokin’, right?’ said Lionel.
‘Of course she’s joking.’
‘Ha ha,’ Hannah said weakly, her eyes on the horses, the cattle pens—thebusy.A woman strode past them and the unseasonably cold wind whipping in over the Monaro Plains had the fringed leather on her riding jacket swirling.
Goals. That’s what she had to remember: her goals.
