Opal Dreaming (11 page)

12

‘WE'VE GOT A
few hours up our sleeves,' said Mrs Arnold as she plonked herself behind the wheel of the four-wheel drive. ‘Let's go to the river and do the washing on our way to the next camp. Those men haven't done their washing in weeks.'

The girls peered inside the LandCruiser to see four large round bundles of clothes in nylon hay nets piled on the back seat.

‘Stockies' jocks?' protested Grace. ‘You gotta be
kidding
me!'

‘You're not really going to make us
touch
those, are you?' Rosie said to her mother.

Mrs Arnold sighed, as though she had anticipated this argument. ‘Get in.'

‘Mu-um!' said Rosie, taking a few steps back. ‘I am
not
getting in there. I'll be sick.'

‘Ride on the running board then,' said Mrs Arnold, starting the engine.

‘I bags the front seat,' said Grace, reaching for the doorhandle.

‘I bags sitting on your lap,' said Shara, hopping in after her.

Jess took another look into the back seat. She could smell the clothes without even getting in. ‘I think I'll ride on the running board too,' she said, stepping up and grabbing the roof racks.

Rosie folded her arms and stood her ground. ‘It's because we're girls. Boys would never be made to do this!'

Mrs Arnold just shrugged, put the LandCruiser into gear and began to drive.

Rosie ever so slightly tilted her head in defiance.

Mrs Arnold rolled her eyes and braked. ‘Are you coming?' she yelled back at her daughter.

Rosie didn't move.

Mrs Arnold looked thoughtful. ‘If you come now, I won't make you wash
all
the undies.'

Rosie unfolded her arms and walked slowly, defiantly, to the car, making a point. She threw a cheeky look at her mother and reached for the roof racks. As she lifted a foot to the running rail, the four-wheel drive lurched away from her and Mrs Arnold drove off.

‘MU-UM! '
Rosie shrieked, infuriated.

Grace screamed with laughter. ‘Suck eggs, Rosie,' she called out the window. Jess burst out laughing when she saw Rosie stamp her foot.

Mrs Arnold drove a wide loop around her daughter and then idled past her. ‘Jump on,' she said out the window. Rosie ran to jump onto the running board, clutching the roof rack opposite Jess.

‘Welcome aboard the BO Express!' Jess grinned at her.

Rosie scowled.

Jess enjoyed the wind and sun on her face as the car bumped a kilometre or so upriver to a spot that hadn't been messed up by the cattle.

At a clearing beside a waterhole, Mrs Arnold wrenched on the handbrake, and Grace and Shara tumbled out the front door, theatrically gasping for fresh air.

‘I'm amazed
you
can smell anything, Grace,' snapped Rosie. ‘You pong just as bad.' She walked to the back of the LandCruiser, opened the door and emerged with a long pair of barbecue tongs. ‘I'm not touching anything grisly,' she said, ‘and I'm not touching anything that's been worn by a ringer.'

‘They do their own, don't worry,' said Mrs Arnold. ‘Even I draw the line there.'

The girls cheered.

Under Mrs Arnold's instruction, they tied the string hangers to the root of a tree and tossed three of the nets into the river, letting the current run through them. Mrs Arnold emptied the fourth net onto the sand. ‘You can start on this bundle.' She pulled the more personal items out with the tongs and tossed them in a bucket of soapy water to soak.

‘Why can't we just take them to a laundromat?' whined Rosie. ‘This
is
the twenty-first century, you know.'

‘Now where would be the fun in that?' said Mrs Arnold. ‘I thought you wanted to go droving
,
not driving for hours to a laundromat.'

‘Why don't the
boys
have to do any washing?' Grace grumbled and grudgingly picked out a shirt with her forefinger and thumb.

‘Tom and Luke came last year and I'll have you know they did all the washing,
without
complaining,' said Mrs Arnold. ‘You're the apprentices this year, so suck it up!'

The girls rubbed the clothes out and rinsed them in the warm river water, returning them to the nets and letting the gentle flow of the river do the final rinse.

As the day grew hotter, Jess realised the washing wasn't such a bad job, in the relative cool of the trees by the water. She squelched her bare toes in the grainy sand and imagined the spirits of ancient people tickling her feet. She could feel the earth alive with their songs. This strangely peaceful place had a heartbeat of its own, the river its lifeblood, the red earth its flesh. In the silvery mulga trees, pink and white corellas celebrated noisily as they feasted on the seeds, making music with the slow-moving water that dissipated into an echo of blue sky.

Mrs Arnold squatted next to Jess and gave her a rare smile. For a moment, her face looked as though it belonged to a different person.

‘It's so beautiful out here,' Jess commented, rubbing a bar of soap over the leg of some jeans.

‘Yes, it is,' agreed Mrs Arnold. ‘It even makes
me
feel relaxed. Does a person good to get back out here and find their roots every now and then.'

‘Are you from here?' asked Jess.

‘Yeah, Harry and I grew up out here. I sold out my part of the property years ago. Didn't feel a need to own it in that way.'

‘To Lindy's dad?'

‘Yep, Harry's business partner.'

‘So now Lindy is Lawson's business partner.'

‘Yep.'

‘Then how come she can tell him what to do?'

Mrs Arnold chuckled. ‘I don't know, but he never argues with her. I'd love to know her secret.'

‘So would I,' said Jess, almost to herself. ‘Then I could get my filly back.' She looked at Mrs Arnold. ‘Do you think Opal's going to come good? Have you ever seen a horse behave the same way as her?'

Mrs Arnold thought for a minute and then shook her head. ‘No, I haven't. Something's definitely not right about her.'

‘Bob reckons she's cursed,' said Jess.

‘She's just a little filly with a sore head,' said Mrs Arnold.

‘Lawson said she's got a bad temperament.'

‘Wouldn't listen to Lawson. He says that about all Muscle's foals.'

‘I'm scared he's going to take her from me too, like he did with Wally,' said Jess. ‘Why does he have to make my life so hard? I hate him so much sometimes.'

‘Lawson can seem a bit tough, but he's all right, Jess. There are better ways to get what you want than just getting cranky about things.'

There was a comfortable silence between them. Jess slapped the pair of jeans into the river and shook them about. Mrs Arnold grabbed a shirt from the dirty pile and swished it in the water, and they squatted side by side, rubbing and rinsing and squeezing.

Jess mulled over Mrs Arnold's words while she scrubbed, and soon the sounds and the smells of the mulga country eclipsed them and wrapped around her soul, making her feel completely at peace.

After a while Mrs Arnold sighed and said quietly, ‘I miss you, brother.'

‘I reckon I can hear Harry in the wind sometimes,' said Jess in almost a whisper. ‘It just sounds so much like his wheezing.'

Mrs Arnold burst out laughing.

The serenity was shattered further when Grace threw a soggy pair of stocky's jocks at Rosie. Mrs Arnold hoisted up the legs of her jeans and waded through the creek towards her daughters. Her voice cut through the screeching of corellas.

As Jess watched, laughing at the circus that was the Arnold family, she pulled out her mobile phone to check for messages. When it stared blankly back at her, she shook it, then held it up to the sky. She turned about and repositioned herself but still there was no response. ‘Oh my God, there's no reception out here!'

13

A HUGE MOB
of cattle, flanked by men on horseback, ambled over a rise in the land. They were an awesome sight, with clouds of dust billowing behind them. The crack of the mens' stockwhips split the air, moving small mobs from the creek and onto the reserve where the pasture was thick and shade was plentiful. As the men backed off, the cattle lowered themselves to the ground with heavy groans and loud moos.

Luke rode into the lunch camp. He swung a leg over his horse and jumped down, then yanked at the girth and pulled the horse's gear off in one swift movement. Underneath it, Legsy was slick with sweat. He champed at his loose ring bit, blowing white froth over his chest. Luke led him to the old yellow ute and slung his reins over the bullbar.

Jess took a couple of buckets of water from the truck tanks and walked out to him.

‘How's he going?' she asked as she slopped water over Legsy's back and gave the horse a rub under his girth area.

‘He's loving all the work,' said Luke, taking a few steps to straighten out his legs. He tossed his saddle in the back of the ute, then unbuckled Legsy's bridle and swapped it for a halter. ‘So you finally got yourself out here then?'

‘Yeah.' She sponged more water onto the horse and moved towards his hind end.

‘I knew you'd be coming out with Judy later.'

Jess stopped sponging. ‘You
knew
?'

Luke smiled sheepishly.

She took her bucket and tossed the remaining water at him.

As Luke dived out of the way, the water splashed across his back and Legsy lurched sideways in surprise. ‘Oi,' Luke laughed.

‘You could have told me!'

‘I was going to, but you got all . . .' He didn't finish, but put his hands on his hips, gave a hoity-toity wiggle and pulled a face.

‘Yeah, maybe I did a bit,' admitted Jess, not quite ready to apologise yet.

‘Hey, how cool is this ute?' he said, changing the subject and nodding towards the old paddock basher. ‘It used to be Harry's. Lawson reckons it's been in the shed at the homestead for years. He changed the head gasket and got it going for this trip.'

Jess looked at the ute with its bald tyres, cracked windscreen, one door missing and rusty windscreen wipers. ‘I could just imagine Harry driving around in that,' she laughed.

‘It's an
HQ
,' said Luke. He still hadn't taken his eyes off it. ‘They're such
beautiful
cars.'

‘Each to their own, I s'pose,' mumbled Jess as she noticed a big rust hole on the front panel. ‘Reckon it would tow a horse float?'

‘Easy,' said Luke. He stepped closer to the ute and began running a hand along the length of its body. ‘It's still got pretty straight panels. It'd probably spray up real nice.'

Bob appeared, leading three sweaty horses behind him. ‘Nice ute, ay,' he called out as he walked past.

Luke ran after him, towing Legsy behind, and soon the pair of them were talking about 202 trimatics and cross-ply winter treads.

Jess rolled her eyes, moved to the next horse and held the other bucket of water up to its nose. Dave slung the horse's reins over the fence rail. ‘Thanks, matey,' he said as he pulled some cigarettes out of his saddlebag. ‘You not riding this muster?'

‘Nah, not allowed,' said Jess. She pulled a face. ‘
Lawson's rules
.'

The stockman snorted and indicated his horse. ‘Look after this bloke for me and you can ride him anytime.
Dave's rules!
' He winked and walked off, leaving the horse for her to unsaddle.

Jess lit up. ‘Thanks,' she called after him, envisaging a ride to a hilltop to check her phone messages as soon as Mrs Arnold wasn't watching.

Dave joined Clarkey, who was sitting under a tree with his elbows on his knees, his hat on the ground. He unscrewed the cap off a bottle of water and began chugging it down, burping loudly when he finished.

As Jess unsaddled the horse, Ryan rode past. ‘Can you guys come and give me a hand with the electric fence?' he called to the two men. ‘The cattle are wandering onto private land, and the owner's going nuts at Lindy.'

Dave looked at his watch and then held up a freshly lit cigarette. ‘Not my problem, matey, it's smoko time!'

‘Clarkey?'

‘They don't pay me enough to work on me lunchbreak,' the ringer answered. ‘What
is
for lunch, anyway?'

Ryan waited a moment longer, and when neither of the men stood up, he turned his horse about, mumbling something under his breath as he rode away.

The girls spent the afternoon packing up the lunch mess, loading the trailer again and relocating to the dinner camp. The new site was by a wide muddy river, flanked by stumpy mulga trees. Once there, they pegged the washing on makeshift clotheslines, set up cattle breaks and prepared a large pot of lamb stew, which they hung on an iron tripod over the campfire. Lindy had brought a side of lamb back to camp from her trip into town, which was a welcome change from the tinned meat the men had all been living on. Jess lifted the lid and stirred the chunks of her carrots and beans around with the potatoes and meat, poking them to see if they were soft.

‘How's that foal? Any better yet?' asked Stanley Arnold as he stepped out of the trailer.

‘The station's going to text me if she gets any worse. But I can't get any reception.' Jess frowned and patted the phone in her back pocket. ‘I have to find a hill.'

Stan raised his eyebrows. ‘You'll be lucky out here.'

‘Hold up the lid to that pot,' said Mrs Arnold, joining Jess at the fire. As Jess did so, Mrs Arnold held a silver wine bladder over the pot and gave a long squirt of red liquid. ‘That oughta liven it up a bit,' she said, peering into the pot and inhaling deeply. ‘Don't mention that to Ryan and his mates, will you.'

‘Promise,' said Jess, leaning over and sniffing. The stew smelled sensational.

Stanley sneaked up behind them and tried to stick a finger in the pot, only to be smartly rapped over the knuckles with Mrs Arnold's spoon.