The Golden Stranger (16 page)

‘Are you an idiot?' She held the pellet under his nose, then raised it up and down to make him nod before she gave it to him.

Within minutes, Goldie understood and nodded on cue. ‘Are you a clever horse?' Shara asked, using the same tone. He nodded again. She gave him a pat on the neck and led him back towards the stable. ‘Shall I make you beautiful?' Goldie nodded and then boofed her in the back.

‘Sorry, I've run out of pellets,' she laughed.

She found a dribble of shampoo in an old bottle at the horse wash and squeezed the last of it over Goldie, rubbing it into a lather and slopping it through his filthy mane. Brown dirty water ran out of him as she rinsed him off. She pushed her fingers into the bone of his tail and got out all the scungy bits. Finally she sponged his head clean and wiped around his muzzle and eyes.

When she had finished, both of them were soaking wet, so she led him out into the sunshine and let him shake like a huge dog. His water-soaked mane flap-flap-flapped against his neck, flinging water everywhere. She scraped him off and rubbed him all over with a towel and he lifted his lip and waggled it with appreciation. Then she set to on his mane, combing out all the burrs and matted bits, and brushing it until the silvery streaks dazzled. She did the same with his tail and snipped it into a neat bang.

As the last damp patches on his pelt faded, she trotted him out on the lunge rope again and marvelled at his glossy smooth coat. He had the muscle and athleticism of a quarter horse, the sharp mind of a trick horse and the hardiness and wily charms of the Australian brumby – and the mix of his parents had given him that beautiful and rare silver taffy colour. Galloping about, freshly washed and groomed in the sunlight, Goldie was absolutely and totally the most spectacular horse Shara had ever laid eyes on.

‘We have to get you out of here, Goldie,' Shara said, when the little colt trotted back to her and rested his head in her arms. ‘You're too special to be in a stupid rodeo.' She changed to her training tone. ‘Is that a good idea?' But Goldie didn't nod. He pushed into her, twisted his head a little and closed his eyes.

She rubbed his cheeks and kissed him in the little hollow above his eyes. ‘You won't be stuck in here much longer,' she promised.

Shara spent the next day at home, organising the brumby ride with her friends. Grace and Elliot came over and helped her turn the sunroom into an office. Jess's parents, although reluctant, let her come and help too.

‘You know, all these plugs and cables are totally unnecessary these days,' said Elliot, crawling out from under the desk. ‘Cloud computing is way better.'

‘Don't care, as long as I can google,' said Shara. ‘Let's look up the Connemans.'

She and Jess sat side-by-side in front of the computer and began by searching ‘Conneman brothers'.

‘Hey, check this out,' said Jess. ‘Mark Conneman has a two-year banning order for failing to provide veterinary care for sick and injured animals.'

‘Why doesn't that surprise me?' said Shara. ‘What about the other one – Graham?'

She took the mouse and keyboard from Jess and googled ‘Graham Conneman': lots of rodeo photos, bucking broncos, team roping photos.

‘Stop, stop!' said Jess suddenly. ‘That one said something about a Mandy Conneman. Go back!'

Shara scrolled back up.
Surely not.

And then she saw it. ‘
Mandy Conneman takes out the
junior roping at Dunega.'
That was her all right, in her skin-tight jeans on a bay horse.

‘So that Mandy girl was Graham Conneman's daughter?' said Jess.

‘Oh my God.' Shara thought of Corey riding alongside her at the Coachwood Crossing Show, the two of them bumping their horses against each other. ‘That lying, sleazy, rodeo
schmuck
!'

‘I'll say!'

Shara shoved her chair away from the desk and took herself to the bathroom. Corey was going out with
Graham Conneman's daughter
? No wonder Mandy had given her a daggers look when she'd introduced herself!

She went out to the lounge room, where Grace and Elliot were setting up the Facebook pages. ‘Did you know Corey goes out with Mandy Conneman? Graham Conneman's daughter.'

Elliot glanced up from his laptop. ‘Dad and I don't like her much.' He shrugged. ‘She's not very nice.'

‘How come you never told me?'

Elliot looked at her through his thick-rimmed glasses. ‘She's not his girlfriend or anything. She just kind of hangs around him. Heaps of girls do.'

‘Corey's a sleaze,' said Grace. ‘Oh, sorry, Elliot.'

But Elliot seemed uninterested, and turned back to the photos he had just uploaded.

Shara channelled her fury by getting back to work on the brumby ride. She and Jess found a photo of a horse being pulled to the ground and composed a flyer with the heading:

WILD HORSE RACE – A TOTAL DISGRACE!

They included the date, place and time of the brumby ride, and sent it to every newspaper, television and radio station in the district.

‘Who else can we send it to?' Shara said, still dissatisfied. ‘We need people to come along.'

‘How about animal welfare groups?' said Jess. ‘There are heaps of those.'

Grace peered over their shoulders. ‘Mum reckons they have info packs for people holding rallies.'

The girls soon discovered that there were many organisations and groups on the internet offering information and support for people holding events. They collected the contacts for as many organisations as they could find, emailed them the brumby ride flyer and invited their members to come along. They asked for emails, faxes and letters of support that they could forward to the local council, demanding that all wild horse races be banned from rodeos.

‘Hey, look, we can do an online petition!' said Shara. ‘We could get signatures from people all over the country!'

‘So even if they can't come to the ride, they can lend us their voice!' said Jess.

‘We still need lots of people to come on the brumby ride,' said Shara, ‘or it won't make a good news story.'

‘Let's ask people to come on foot!' suggested Grace.

‘Reckon they'd come?'

‘We could ask,' Grace shrugged.

‘This is going to be huge!' said Jess, with a worried half-smile.

‘I hope so,' grinned Shara.

Shara and Jess spent the rest of the week pinning up posters around town. Elliot made a website to Grace's design specifications. Tom and Rosie walked the streets collecting more signatures for the petition to the mayor.

It seemed the whole town was abuzz with preparations. Annie Blake rang to say she had been baking all day with the ladies from the CWA and would be bringing ‘refreshments' to the sausage sizzle. Chan, Jess's boss at the bakery, offered to donate the bread.

Mrs Arnold was keen to be part of any horse-rescue operation. She offered to help by being their official taxi driver, ferrying them in and out of town to pick up sausages and cans of soft drink for the sausage sizzle.

The phone rang continually. ‘Brumby Ride Hotline!' Shara sang, snatching it from its cradle.

‘I got two more people coming!' said Jess on the other end.

‘Did you find out how many are coming from the trail ride club?'

‘About eight.'

By the end of the week Shara's inbox was full of responses from animal welfare groups. As she looked down the long list of emails, she punched the air victoriously.
Yes!
She printed them out and put them in a large envelope addressed to the mayor.

‘Heaps of people are coming,' said Shara over the phone to Jess again, looking at her final list. ‘A hundred people is just a rough estimate, there'll also be people who'll just turn up on the day.' She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. ‘Connemans, here we come!'

21

THE MORNING BEFORE
the ride, Shara was woken by her phone ringing. She groped around for it on her bedside table without taking her head off the pillow.

‘Shara.'

‘Corey?' What did
he
want?

‘Hi.' He sounded uncharacteristically hesitant.

‘How are you?' she asked cautiously.

‘Getting better. Still not allowed to ride or drive a car.'

‘Sounds boring.'

‘It is,' he said flatly. ‘Elliot keeps trying to give me his electronic games to play with.'

‘When can you ride?'

‘One more day. It's just a precautionary thing. I feel fine.'

The conversation hit a lull and Shara tried to think of more small talk. What did this have to do with her? Why was Corey ringing her with his problems? Why didn't he ring
Mandy
?

‘Why are you ringing me?' she finally asked.

There was a pause. ‘I felt bad . . . about Mandy being here, when you came over.'

‘Why? It's a free world.'

‘Mandy is Graham Conneman's daughter.'

‘I know.'

‘She hangs around me all the time. She seems to think we've got something going. I don't know why, I keep telling her . . . ' ‘Oh, well, thanks for explaining that.'

‘Shara, I don't even like her.'

‘Whatever. Nothing to do with me.'

Shara wished he'd just shut up. Her head started spinning again. Why did he do this to her all the time? Did he like making an idiot out of her? Did he have some sick need to reel girls in and have them hang off him? Well, she wasn't into it. She didn't care if he looked like some sort of demigod; she had no desire to be part of his little harem.

‘The Connemans own Sampson,' said Corey. ‘I can't just be rude to her.'

‘I thought Sampson was your good horse.'

‘He
is
my good horse, but I don't own him. He's an open campdraft winner, trained for roping and barrel racing – an insanely good horse. It's been a real honour to ride him. I'd never have placed in the Nationals without him.'

‘So you've sold your soul to ride a good horse?'

There was a tense pause on the end of the line. ‘Not anymore. Graham's taking him back. They're picking him up this afternoon.'

Shara felt a rush of guilt. That was
her
fault. ‘I'm sorry, Corey. I never meant for you to get tangled up in this. I never asked you to . . .' ‘I know you didn't, but I wanted to.'

There was a silence. ‘Why?'

‘I like you,' he said simply. ‘You're funny. And sweet.'

‘And klutzy.'

She heard him exhale. ‘Is it so hard for you to believe that I might like you?'

‘No, not at all, you like heaps of girls.' Shara instantly regretted her bitchy tone. She sucked in a deep breath and switched back to aloof ice queen.

‘That's a bit harsh, Shara.'

‘What do you want me to say?'

Corey was quiet for a while. ‘Not that.'

It was all so confusing. Shara needed Jess here, to advise her on all this boy stuff. She snuggled into her doona and had the sudden urge to reach through the phone and touch him. She wondered if he was shirtless again, sitting cross-legged and barefoot in old jeans. And then the thought of Mandy on his verandah, glaring at her, ruined the image.

‘I can't bear the thought of the Connemans getting Goldie back,' she finally said.

‘I can't bear the thought of them getting Sampson back.'

‘I suppose you heard about the brumby ride.'

‘I did,' said Corey. ‘Good for you. If I can find a horse to ride, I'll join you.' He seemed relieved at the change of subject. ‘Are you taking the colt along, as a token brumby?'

So he didn't know. The thought of Goldie sliced through her. ‘He won't be there. I don't have him anymore.'

‘Really? I thought you were going to buy him or adopt him or something.'

‘Yeah well, that was before Dad got called down to Brisbane in the middle of the night by the police.'