(no subject)
The boy took a long draught from his water bottle, then wiped his mouth and looked over at the horses. The four of them, two mares and two geldings, were drinking placidly from the river they were about to cross, just upstream from where the cattle were doing the same. The day was cooling down as evening approached, for which he was grateful. The droving trip to Melbourne would be long and hot enough, so he was glad for any respite when it came.
Though the work ahead of him was hard, the boy was grateful for it, both for the pay that awaited him in Melbourne and for the chance to work with the animals. The cows were as dull and predictable as cows always were, but that made it relaxing to take care of them. The horses, on the other hand - one belonging to his master the drover himself, the other three destined for sale in the city - they were a challenge, and one he readily embraced. He knew that he would miss the slow, steady gelding he had been riding once they reached Melbourne. He had named him Stoney in honour of the rocky field that had marked the start of their journey, a move he knew he would regret when it came their time to part.
The boy made his way over to where the drover was watering his own horse and rummaging through his pack for an evening snack. "Sir?" he hazarded, looking at the position of the sun and the depth of the water. "It's getting cold. I don't think we should try to ford this river tonight - by the time we get across, there'll be such a chill to the air, it won't be healthy for the animals. Or us", he finished, sticking his hands in his pockets.
The drover looked over at the river, then nodded. "True enough, boy", he replied, and slung his pack and rifle onto the ground. "We'll set up camp here, then, and cross the river in the morning. See to the horses, boy, and make sure the cattle have plenty of grazing."
The boy jumped to his tasks with alacrity, never once begrudging the labour. He was grateful to the drover for offering him this apprenticeship four years ago, when his family could barely afford to feed themselves. Times had been tough for everyone since the crash, of course, so he was lucky to get this opportunity. He missed them, of course, but was glad that he was no longer a burden on them. And looking after animals had been his passion all his life, after all - so a drover looking for a boy to assist him on his regular routes was an opportunity not to be missed.
A raptor wheeled overhead as the sun sunk below the horizon, just as the boy had finished rubbing down the horses and settling them in for the night. He squinted up at it against the dying light, trying to gauge its species, but it seemed too large for what its shape led him to believe it was. It wheeled twice more, as if watching the herd, then soared off to the east. Shrugging to himself, he settled down at their campsite, seated across the fire from the drover, and made a start on his dinner.
After dinner, the drover was settling in for the night, but the boy decided to check on the horses one last time. As he moved between the four animals, checking that they were calm and restful, he caught a glimpse of an unusual shadow moving through the scrub to the east, a shadow that might have been human or might have been a dog. A wild dingo was the last thing they needed, to get in amongst the cattle and panic them into scattering. A native could be more troublesome, though, especially if he were armed. The boy carefully paced back to the campsite, keeping his eye on the spot where he saw the shadow, and picked up the second rifle.
The shadow appeared again, and detached itself from the bushes to prowl towards the cattle, most of whom were sleeping by now. It was definitely a dingo, or at least a dog of some sort. The boy ran quickly to cut it off before it could reach the cattle, holding the rifle by his side. He was reluctant to fire, both to avoid startling the cattle himself and in the hope that he wouldn't necessarily have to kill the dingo. He watched the shadow carefully as he took up his position in front of the cattle, cursing himself for not bringing the lantern or a branch from the fire. The night seemed somehow darker than usual, and he fancied that he could see other shadows stirring to the east.
The boy's attention, however, was focussed on the dingo before him, only barely visible in the light from the campfire. Slowly the dog slunk forward, edging to its left to get around the human. The boy matched its movements and drew himself up to his full height - not inconsiderable for a boy of sixteen years - and set his legs apart, glaring down at the dog. "Stay back!" he snapped, using the voice he had developed in his work with the sheepdogs, in between the droving times. "Don't even... no! Back! Bad dog." He kept his gaze fixed on the dingo as best he could in the dim light, and advanced steadily, driving the creature back. The rifle was held by his side, unnecessary, as he urged the dog away from the cattle by dominance alone. Once they had reached what he deemed a safe distance, he softened his posture and stepped back, speaking quietly, "Good boy. Go find a rabbit or something." Once the dingo had slipped out of sight back to the east, he returned to the cattle, discovering to his relief that none had stirred during the encounter.
In the morning, the boy went about his chores as usual. The night's events had been unusual, but nothing had come of them, so he felt no need to mention them to the drover. Nevertheless, for the next several evenings, he found himself watching the scrub carefully as he prepared for bed, convinced that there was something out there, something that was following their progress. Occasionally he caught glimpses of a large dingo in the shadows, or what could be a horse or a human, but whenever he turned the lantern onto them, they melted away into nothing.
On the final night before their arrival in Melbourne, the boy was checking on the cattle when the drover's shout alerted him to trouble. Running quickly to his master's aid, he saw the horses in a panic. The drover's own mare was rearing wildly, and the two geldings were stamping at the ground, eyes wide with fright. The second mare, the one that would be selling for a fine price in the city, was galloping away. The boy looked to the drover, but he was wholly occupied in wrestling his mare into control before she threw him onto the ground.
The boy hesitated only a moment more, then ran to Stoney's side, stroking his neck and whispering soothing words in his ear. "Hey, hey, hey", he murmured, shuffling to one side to avoid a stamping hoof. "What's gotten into you? It's alright, you. Come on, we have to catch that beauty who's getting away, don't we?" Slowly the gelding calmed down under the boy's soothing touch, and he consented to be hastily saddled and mounted. The escaping mare was barely visible against the remnants of sunset in the west, and so the boy kicked his gelding into giving chase, holding himself close to the horse's neck to aid their speed.
The moon was shining brightly, or otherwise the boy would never have dared risk running Stoney into breaking a leg in a rabbit hole or some other obstacle. As it was, there was barely enough light to keep them safe as they pursued their quarry. Twice the boy felt the consequences of his hasty saddling, throwing his weight to one side just in time to avoid upsetting the saddle and slipping off Stoney's back entirely.
He almost lost his grip a third time when a bird dove at him unexpectedly - not a sparrow or even an owl, but a huge raptor, hunting unusually late at night. Only by throwing himself flat against Stoney's back was he able to avoid being dislodged, and he had to work to keep the gelding in control after so close an encounter with the bird. Cursing his luck for having all of Australia's wildlife seemingly out to get him on this trip, he clung tightly to his mount, slowly closing in on their target.
Finally, just as he felt Stoney starting to tire, they drew alongside the mare. He had planned to hedge her in, force her back towards the camp or into somewhere she could not run so quickly, but a sharp drop was approaching, the edge of a ridge. One look at the mare told him that she was going to run over the edge rather than stop - and again he wondered what could have gotten into these animals - and so he had little time to lose.
The boy eased himself up in the stirrups of his saddle, clinging to Stony's mane for support, and then threw himself bodily at the mare, clutching to her back for dear life as she thundered on. He shifted his weight around and dragged on her mane, forcing her to turn before reaching the edge of the ridge. Slowly he calmed her down as she trotted back down the slope, patting her neck and murmuring reassuringly to her.
When he returned to the camp, both horses in tow, the drover had the other two under control, and had seen to the cattle. "Good work, boy", he remarked, taking the reins from him. "I don't know what's gotten into these animals. It seems like something's been upsetting them for the whole trip. Well done, lad, you've earned your pay this time, no question." Beaming at the praise, he unsaddled Stoney and did his best to care for the horses before they all turned in for the night.
The next afternoon found them delivering the cattle to a property just outside Melbourne. All the heads were accounted for, and in good health. The horses, they took with them into the town itself, to meet their buyer and to get their pay for the trip. The drover left the boy at a public house across the road while he met with the horses' buyer.
As the boy sipped at some cheap beer and tried to gauge how much of his pay he could afford to spend on the delights of Melbourne, he spotted a most unusual horse hitched outside the pub. From build and colour, he was looking at an Arabian, a stallion no less, but one much larger than the breed usually grew - twenty hands, if he were not mistaken. Such a horse would cost a fortune, of course, so he dared not approach him for fear of incurring his wealthy owner's wrath. Instead he watched the horse silently as he enjoyed his drink, and was only roused from his observations by the drover approaching him, accompanied by a finely dressed, obviously wealthy lady, who regarded him with a gaze that made him feel like a mouse watched by a hawk.
"Boy, this is Miss Hamersley", said the drover, indicating his companion. "She's buying the horses we brought here, and has made another offer as well. Miss Hamersley?"
The lady smiled charmingly down at the boy, who had by now stumbled to his feet and made a clumsy bow. "I own an estate in New South Wales, my boy", she explained, her voice that of a well educated Australian lady, with tones he would have expected from a rather older lady. "I collect horses, and hounds, and your master here tells me you have a good hand with both. Is that true?"
The boy found himself unable to meet the lady's gaze, and shuffled his feet, mumbling that he liked working with such animals, and did the best job that he could.
"Excellent!" beamed the lady. "Come along then, we have a long ride ahead of us." With that, she strode outside and spoke a few words to the Arabian giant, before untying and mounting him. The boy gaped at her, unable to believe that such a lady could ride such a creature. He looked at the drover in confusion.
"It's a good deal, boy. She'll pay more than I can afford to, and you've got talent. Talent that's wasted on cattle. I can find a new assistant. Besides, where else would you get the chance to work with such a magnificent creature?"
The boy followed the drover's gaze to where Miss Hamersley was trotting across the road on the stallion, as much at ease as if she were sitting astride the most placid pony. "You mean the lady or the horse, sir?"
The drover laughed. "Don't go getting any ideas, boy. Now hurry up - you'll be riding Stoney from now on, so get him saddled and go catch the lady up, with the other two."
The boy nodded hurriedly, made his last goodbyes to his former master, and dashed outside, gathering up the three horses Miss Hamersley had bought and hurrying after her, sitting astride Stoney. He caught her up quickly - the Arabian was proceeding at a sedate walk - and bowed his head to her as he drew alongside her. "Here I am, ma'am. I... this is... you have a very beautiful horse, ma'am."
The lady smiled sweetly at him as she patted her stallion's neck. "Matty is a very good horse. I've had him for as long as I can remember. Do be careful around him, though, he can be frisky at times. What's your name, boy?"
The boy edged Stoney a little further away from Matty, keeping an eye on the stallion's teeth. "Stephan, ma'am. Stephan Baker."
The lady nodded. "Stephan. I'll remember that. Come now, we ride through the night, there's no time to lose."
As the lady drew ahead of him again on her stallion, and they passed out of the city lights, he saw her silhouette against the night sky, merely a shadow against the scrub and the road. For a moment he called to mind the mysterious shadow that had been stalking their progress on the droving road, the shadow that might have been horse or man, and noted how the lady's shape reminded him of this. But of course that couldn't mean anything.
Though the work ahead of him was hard, the boy was grateful for it, both for the pay that awaited him in Melbourne and for the chance to work with the animals. The cows were as dull and predictable as cows always were, but that made it relaxing to take care of them. The horses, on the other hand - one belonging to his master the drover himself, the other three destined for sale in the city - they were a challenge, and one he readily embraced. He knew that he would miss the slow, steady gelding he had been riding once they reached Melbourne. He had named him Stoney in honour of the rocky field that had marked the start of their journey, a move he knew he would regret when it came their time to part.
The boy made his way over to where the drover was watering his own horse and rummaging through his pack for an evening snack. "Sir?" he hazarded, looking at the position of the sun and the depth of the water. "It's getting cold. I don't think we should try to ford this river tonight - by the time we get across, there'll be such a chill to the air, it won't be healthy for the animals. Or us", he finished, sticking his hands in his pockets.
The drover looked over at the river, then nodded. "True enough, boy", he replied, and slung his pack and rifle onto the ground. "We'll set up camp here, then, and cross the river in the morning. See to the horses, boy, and make sure the cattle have plenty of grazing."
The boy jumped to his tasks with alacrity, never once begrudging the labour. He was grateful to the drover for offering him this apprenticeship four years ago, when his family could barely afford to feed themselves. Times had been tough for everyone since the crash, of course, so he was lucky to get this opportunity. He missed them, of course, but was glad that he was no longer a burden on them. And looking after animals had been his passion all his life, after all - so a drover looking for a boy to assist him on his regular routes was an opportunity not to be missed.
A raptor wheeled overhead as the sun sunk below the horizon, just as the boy had finished rubbing down the horses and settling them in for the night. He squinted up at it against the dying light, trying to gauge its species, but it seemed too large for what its shape led him to believe it was. It wheeled twice more, as if watching the herd, then soared off to the east. Shrugging to himself, he settled down at their campsite, seated across the fire from the drover, and made a start on his dinner.
After dinner, the drover was settling in for the night, but the boy decided to check on the horses one last time. As he moved between the four animals, checking that they were calm and restful, he caught a glimpse of an unusual shadow moving through the scrub to the east, a shadow that might have been human or might have been a dog. A wild dingo was the last thing they needed, to get in amongst the cattle and panic them into scattering. A native could be more troublesome, though, especially if he were armed. The boy carefully paced back to the campsite, keeping his eye on the spot where he saw the shadow, and picked up the second rifle.
The shadow appeared again, and detached itself from the bushes to prowl towards the cattle, most of whom were sleeping by now. It was definitely a dingo, or at least a dog of some sort. The boy ran quickly to cut it off before it could reach the cattle, holding the rifle by his side. He was reluctant to fire, both to avoid startling the cattle himself and in the hope that he wouldn't necessarily have to kill the dingo. He watched the shadow carefully as he took up his position in front of the cattle, cursing himself for not bringing the lantern or a branch from the fire. The night seemed somehow darker than usual, and he fancied that he could see other shadows stirring to the east.
The boy's attention, however, was focussed on the dingo before him, only barely visible in the light from the campfire. Slowly the dog slunk forward, edging to its left to get around the human. The boy matched its movements and drew himself up to his full height - not inconsiderable for a boy of sixteen years - and set his legs apart, glaring down at the dog. "Stay back!" he snapped, using the voice he had developed in his work with the sheepdogs, in between the droving times. "Don't even... no! Back! Bad dog." He kept his gaze fixed on the dingo as best he could in the dim light, and advanced steadily, driving the creature back. The rifle was held by his side, unnecessary, as he urged the dog away from the cattle by dominance alone. Once they had reached what he deemed a safe distance, he softened his posture and stepped back, speaking quietly, "Good boy. Go find a rabbit or something." Once the dingo had slipped out of sight back to the east, he returned to the cattle, discovering to his relief that none had stirred during the encounter.
In the morning, the boy went about his chores as usual. The night's events had been unusual, but nothing had come of them, so he felt no need to mention them to the drover. Nevertheless, for the next several evenings, he found himself watching the scrub carefully as he prepared for bed, convinced that there was something out there, something that was following their progress. Occasionally he caught glimpses of a large dingo in the shadows, or what could be a horse or a human, but whenever he turned the lantern onto them, they melted away into nothing.
On the final night before their arrival in Melbourne, the boy was checking on the cattle when the drover's shout alerted him to trouble. Running quickly to his master's aid, he saw the horses in a panic. The drover's own mare was rearing wildly, and the two geldings were stamping at the ground, eyes wide with fright. The second mare, the one that would be selling for a fine price in the city, was galloping away. The boy looked to the drover, but he was wholly occupied in wrestling his mare into control before she threw him onto the ground.
The boy hesitated only a moment more, then ran to Stoney's side, stroking his neck and whispering soothing words in his ear. "Hey, hey, hey", he murmured, shuffling to one side to avoid a stamping hoof. "What's gotten into you? It's alright, you. Come on, we have to catch that beauty who's getting away, don't we?" Slowly the gelding calmed down under the boy's soothing touch, and he consented to be hastily saddled and mounted. The escaping mare was barely visible against the remnants of sunset in the west, and so the boy kicked his gelding into giving chase, holding himself close to the horse's neck to aid their speed.
The moon was shining brightly, or otherwise the boy would never have dared risk running Stoney into breaking a leg in a rabbit hole or some other obstacle. As it was, there was barely enough light to keep them safe as they pursued their quarry. Twice the boy felt the consequences of his hasty saddling, throwing his weight to one side just in time to avoid upsetting the saddle and slipping off Stoney's back entirely.
He almost lost his grip a third time when a bird dove at him unexpectedly - not a sparrow or even an owl, but a huge raptor, hunting unusually late at night. Only by throwing himself flat against Stoney's back was he able to avoid being dislodged, and he had to work to keep the gelding in control after so close an encounter with the bird. Cursing his luck for having all of Australia's wildlife seemingly out to get him on this trip, he clung tightly to his mount, slowly closing in on their target.
Finally, just as he felt Stoney starting to tire, they drew alongside the mare. He had planned to hedge her in, force her back towards the camp or into somewhere she could not run so quickly, but a sharp drop was approaching, the edge of a ridge. One look at the mare told him that she was going to run over the edge rather than stop - and again he wondered what could have gotten into these animals - and so he had little time to lose.
The boy eased himself up in the stirrups of his saddle, clinging to Stony's mane for support, and then threw himself bodily at the mare, clutching to her back for dear life as she thundered on. He shifted his weight around and dragged on her mane, forcing her to turn before reaching the edge of the ridge. Slowly he calmed her down as she trotted back down the slope, patting her neck and murmuring reassuringly to her.
When he returned to the camp, both horses in tow, the drover had the other two under control, and had seen to the cattle. "Good work, boy", he remarked, taking the reins from him. "I don't know what's gotten into these animals. It seems like something's been upsetting them for the whole trip. Well done, lad, you've earned your pay this time, no question." Beaming at the praise, he unsaddled Stoney and did his best to care for the horses before they all turned in for the night.
The next afternoon found them delivering the cattle to a property just outside Melbourne. All the heads were accounted for, and in good health. The horses, they took with them into the town itself, to meet their buyer and to get their pay for the trip. The drover left the boy at a public house across the road while he met with the horses' buyer.
As the boy sipped at some cheap beer and tried to gauge how much of his pay he could afford to spend on the delights of Melbourne, he spotted a most unusual horse hitched outside the pub. From build and colour, he was looking at an Arabian, a stallion no less, but one much larger than the breed usually grew - twenty hands, if he were not mistaken. Such a horse would cost a fortune, of course, so he dared not approach him for fear of incurring his wealthy owner's wrath. Instead he watched the horse silently as he enjoyed his drink, and was only roused from his observations by the drover approaching him, accompanied by a finely dressed, obviously wealthy lady, who regarded him with a gaze that made him feel like a mouse watched by a hawk.
"Boy, this is Miss Hamersley", said the drover, indicating his companion. "She's buying the horses we brought here, and has made another offer as well. Miss Hamersley?"
The lady smiled charmingly down at the boy, who had by now stumbled to his feet and made a clumsy bow. "I own an estate in New South Wales, my boy", she explained, her voice that of a well educated Australian lady, with tones he would have expected from a rather older lady. "I collect horses, and hounds, and your master here tells me you have a good hand with both. Is that true?"
The boy found himself unable to meet the lady's gaze, and shuffled his feet, mumbling that he liked working with such animals, and did the best job that he could.
"Excellent!" beamed the lady. "Come along then, we have a long ride ahead of us." With that, she strode outside and spoke a few words to the Arabian giant, before untying and mounting him. The boy gaped at her, unable to believe that such a lady could ride such a creature. He looked at the drover in confusion.
"It's a good deal, boy. She'll pay more than I can afford to, and you've got talent. Talent that's wasted on cattle. I can find a new assistant. Besides, where else would you get the chance to work with such a magnificent creature?"
The boy followed the drover's gaze to where Miss Hamersley was trotting across the road on the stallion, as much at ease as if she were sitting astride the most placid pony. "You mean the lady or the horse, sir?"
The drover laughed. "Don't go getting any ideas, boy. Now hurry up - you'll be riding Stoney from now on, so get him saddled and go catch the lady up, with the other two."
The boy nodded hurriedly, made his last goodbyes to his former master, and dashed outside, gathering up the three horses Miss Hamersley had bought and hurrying after her, sitting astride Stoney. He caught her up quickly - the Arabian was proceeding at a sedate walk - and bowed his head to her as he drew alongside her. "Here I am, ma'am. I... this is... you have a very beautiful horse, ma'am."
The lady smiled sweetly at him as she patted her stallion's neck. "Matty is a very good horse. I've had him for as long as I can remember. Do be careful around him, though, he can be frisky at times. What's your name, boy?"
The boy edged Stoney a little further away from Matty, keeping an eye on the stallion's teeth. "Stephan, ma'am. Stephan Baker."
The lady nodded. "Stephan. I'll remember that. Come now, we ride through the night, there's no time to lose."
As the lady drew ahead of him again on her stallion, and they passed out of the city lights, he saw her silhouette against the night sky, merely a shadow against the scrub and the road. For a moment he called to mind the mysterious shadow that had been stalking their progress on the droving road, the shadow that might have been horse or man, and noted how the lady's shape reminded him of this. But of course that couldn't mean anything.