Diamond Spirit Page 18

  Everything was at peace. The mares were grazing, Grunter the pig snuffled at a leaky water trough and chooks pecked busily beneath feed bins. All seemed to be as it should at Harry’s place. So what was Tom talking about?

  Luke looked up towards the stables and a blast of water hit him with so much force it nearly knocked him over. His arms flew up to shield his face and he stumbled backwards, coughing and spluttering while the jets of water hammered him all over.

  Tom screamed with laughter and kept blasting him.

  ‘You’re dead, Tommo!’ Luke spluttered, rushing at his friend and groping for the hose.

  Tom had been playing jokes on him all weekend: dead mice in his workboots, a broken chair leg strategically concealed. It was about time Luke got his own back.

  He fought Tom for the hose, knocking him to the ground and shoving his fingers up into his armpits so hard that Tom squealed like a girl and let go. The hose snaked wildly, twisting in the air and sending arcs of water from one end of the yard to the other. A jet slashed across Lawson’s chest as he walked out of the shed to see what the commotion was. A look of thunder crossed his face.

  ‘Now you’ve done it.’ Luke pinned Tom’s arms down into the mud. ‘Lawson’s gonna get you bad.’ He let go of Tom and stepped aside as Lawson, bigger than the two of them put together, stormed towards them.

  ‘He’s all yours,’ grinned Luke. Tom squirmed in a pool of mud and looked sheepishly at Lawson.

  ‘Get that hose turned off and stop wasting water, Tom. You oughta know better than that.’

  ‘Sorry, Lawson,’ said Tom, struggling to keep a straight face.

  Luke grabbed for the wayward hose and kinked it while Tom pulled himself up and walked towards the tap. Luke followed, and as soon as it was tightly shut off he made a grab for the designer undies peeping out the top of Tom’s jeans and gave his mate the biggest, hardest wedgie he could. ‘Take that back to boarding school with you,’ he laughed, and bolted for the stables, leaving Tom cursing and clutching the back of his jeans.

  Harry was in the stable aisle. Luke stopped in his tracks, dripping wet, and stared at him. Harry: the big charismatic man with the twinkling blue eyes, wheezy cough and leathery skin. He looked so frail and colourless.

  ‘Hi, Harry,’ Luke said, shaking his arms off.

  ‘How’d you go with the hay?’ The old man fumbled in his pockets and brought out a pouch of tobacco.

  ‘All stacked,’ said Luke.

  ‘Any good?’

  ‘Nice and fresh, leafy. It’s good.’

  ‘Find that loose stallion?’

  Luke startled. ‘I thought . . .’ He looked over Harry’s shoulder. Biyanga stood in his stable, chewing on a mouthful of hay.

  Harry chuckled. ‘Tom got you a beauty.’

  Luke watched Tom walk into the building, still pulling at his backside. ‘I got him better.’

  ‘You nearly cut me in half,’ grumbled Tom, as he walked to the feedroom. ‘Feeding up?’

  Luke pulled the ute keys out of his pocket and jangled them. ‘Sunday, they all get hay!’ He looked hopefully at the old man, who stood there hand-rolling a ciggie. ‘Gonna come, Harry?’

  Harry slowly ran his tongue along the edge of the cigarette paper and then rolled it shut between his fingers and thumbs. He shrugged. ‘Yeah, Annie’ll kill me if she sees me smoking this thing.’

  Luke’s heart leapt. Harry hadn’t been down to the paddock for over a week. He must be feeling a lot better. Luke walked over to the old man and took him gently by the arm.

  Harry shook him off. ‘No need for that,’ he grumbled and shuffled towards the ute, taking big, laboured breaths. ‘You drive.’

  Luke ran to yank the door open for him, then jumped into the driver’s seat. ‘You’re in the back, Tom!’

  Tom came out of the feedroom looking sharp in a fresh change of city clothes. ‘Can’t,’ he said, slinging a pack over his shoulder. ‘Dad’s here.’ A horn honked out the front of the property. ‘See you in a few weeks, ay?’

  Luke slumped. It had been good having Tom around for the weekend. ‘Thanks for the help with the hay,’ he said, closing the door and winding the window down.

  ‘Look after my horse for me!’ Tom ran to the gate.

  Luke waved out the window and then glanced at Harry, who was lighting up – unbelievable. Luke crunched the ute into gear, pumped the accelerator, then hung his head and half his body out the window while reversing to the top of the laneway. After opening the gate, he kept reversing, all the way down.

  At the bottom he pulled his head back into the cabin. Harry stared at him with a puzzled expression.

  ‘Something with the crankshaft,’ shrugged Luke. ‘Lawson’s gonna look at it this week.’ He yanked on the handbrake.

  Harry raised an eyebrow, then dragged in a lungful of smoke, wheezing and spluttering as he exhaled.

  Luke tried not to listen to it. How a man with lung cancer could keep sucking on those things was beyond him. ‘I tightened up all those fences, replaced two of the posts,’ he said, pointing to the other side of the mares’ paddock. ‘They came up real good. And I fixed the ballcock in the trough. It runs heaps better now.’

  Harry kept coughing. Luke walked to the back of the ute and grabbed a whole bale of hay. He’d show Harry the cut on that filly’s leg once he got them all fed. It wasn’t healing right. Out in the paddock, he spread the bale out between the horses, then headed back for another one.

  Harry was slumped over in the front of the ute with his eyes closed.

  ‘Oh no, Harry.’ Luke broke into a run, leapt the fence in a bound and yanked the door open. In the front seat, Harry took long squeaky pulls for air. The ciggie smouldered quietly, burning into his trousers. Luke grabbed it and flicked it out of the car. ‘You okay, Harry?’

  Harry didn’t respond.

  Luke gave him a gentle shake. ‘Harry?’

  The old man squeezed his eyes shut and sucked harder for air.

  Luke slammed the door and ran to the driver’s side. He crunched and crunched at the gears, but couldn’t get it into first. ‘Hang in there, Harry.’ He pressed the horn on the steering wheel and a limp whine came out. Leaping out and dragging the gate open, he yelled ‘Lawson!’ as loud as he could. ‘Hold on, Harry!’

  Luke reversed at full speed into the mares’ paddock, scattering the horses, then hit the brakes and sent the ute into a one-eighty. He reversed back out, not bothering with the gate and flew backwards straight up the laneway, bumping and banging the whole way. Harry slumped onto the dashboard, fighting for breath.

  He yelled for Lawson again as he entered the stable yard. Lawson came running. He opened Harry’s door and immediately reached into his pocket for his phone.

  ‘He can’t breathe!’ said Luke, as he leaned across and helped Harry to sit back. The old man’s eyes were wide open and his neck strained. ‘He’s not getting any air in at all!’

  While Lawson gave the nearest crossroad to the triple-0 service, Annie ran up behind him. She pulled him out of the way and knelt down by Harry. ‘What’ve you done to yourself, love?’ she said gently, holding her husband up. She looked across at Luke. ‘Was he sneaking fags again?’

  Luke froze. He didn’t want to dob on the old man.

  ‘Was he or not?’ snapped Annie.

  Luke nodded.

  Annie set her lips tight and shook her head. ‘You’ve got lung cancer, you old fool!’ She pulled a puffer from her pocket and tried to squirt it into Harry’s mouth. ‘Try to breathe in, love.’ She turned to Lawson. ‘How long till they get here?’

  ‘Twenty minutes.’

  ‘He won’t last twenty minutes!’ Annie began frantically squeezing the inhaler at Harry’s lips. ‘Come on, love, breathe.’

  ‘Help me sit him up,’ said Lawson. Luke reached across the ute and helped to hold the old man up.

  ‘Don’t you give up, Harry!’ said Lawson. ‘Keep trying. Get that air in.’

  Harry lifted his head a
nd sucked for air.

  ‘That’s it, relax your shoulders, stay calm,’ said Lawson. ‘Keep trying, the ambulance is coming, you just gotta keep sucking in what air you can, old man.’

  MOONSTONE PROMISE

  Jess untied something from around her neck and held it out to Luke. ‘Take my moonstone. They’re supposed to give you beautiful dreams.’

  It was a pale oval-shaped stone, hung on a thin leather strap.

  ‘Promise me you’ll come back,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’ll see you again, Jess,’ Luke said. ‘Promise.’

  After a harsh childhood spent in foster care, Luke finally feels at home on Harry’s farm, working with horses. When Harry dies, and Luke has a bitter falling-out with the people around him, he does a runner, leaving everything behind. He takes off to the gulf country in search of brumbies and finds himself camped by a river with three Aboriginal elders.

  Can a mob of wild brumbies and three wise men help Luke discover who he is and where he belongs?

  OPAL DREAMING

  ‘What did you decide to call her?’ asked Lawson, looking over Jess’s shoulder at the little chestnut foal.

  ‘Opal,’ said Jess, gazing, besotted, at her once-in-a-lifetime horse.

  ‘Bad luck stones,’ grunted Lawson.

  Finally the day has come when Jess can bring home her filly Opal. But after Opal almost drowns in a flooded river, she becomes ill and won’t get better.

  When Opal becomes so savage with pain that no one can go near her, Jess wonders if the secrets of the land might hold a cure, and jumps at the chance to go droving with her friends – and Luke.

  Can Jess find the answers she’s seeking – and her dream boy as well?