The Golden Stranger Read online

  ‘Come on, handsome,’ she said, pulling at what was left of his rope. ‘Come and see your new home.’ She led him into the yard, unclipped him and watched as Rocko galloped up from the adjoining paddock. The two horses stood, necks arched over the fence, puffing into each other’s nostrils. Rocko let out a shrill squeal and struck out with his front leg. Goldie immediately lashed back. Although half Rocko’s size, he kept squealing and striking.

  ‘I think he has short-man syndrome,’ laughed Jess.

  ‘He’s cheeky,’ said Shara. ‘Lucky there’s a good strong fence between them or Rocko would give him a hiding!’

  The colt turned his back on Rocko and paced around the yard, inspecting everything. He walked into the shelter and nosed through the straw bedding, took a nibble of the hay and waggled his lips in the water. He picked up one of Shara’s new brushes in his teeth, a mischievous look in his eye. Then he trotted back out with his tail in the air and shook his head, tossing the brush to the other side of the yard.

  ‘Hey!’ said Shara. ‘That’s my new brush you’re flinging about!’ She retrieved it and resumed her seat on the rail with her friends.

  Goldie pushed the water bucket with his nose and tipped it over, making a big puddle. The girls watched in disbelief as he took the bucket in his teeth and carried it over to the fence. Rocko stopped squealing and sniffed the bucket through the railings.

  Jess squealed with laughter. ‘He’s trying to offer Rocko a bribe!’

  ‘A peace offering,’ said Rosie.

  ‘Wow, maybe it’s true about the trick-horse bloodlines,’ said Shara. ‘I think that black stallion has passed on his trickery to this guy!’

  ‘Look what he’s doing now,’ said Jess.

  The colt put the bucket on the ground and, using his nose and one hoof, he flipped it upside-down. Then, one hoof at a time, he stepped up onto the bucket.

  ‘Look at that!’ said Shara.

  Grace began to clap. ‘Clever boy!’

  Rocko snorted and stepped back a pace, as Goldie carefully moved his hind legs about, one by one, and lined himself up with the fence. He lifted a hind leg in the air and searched for the bucket.

  ‘Uh, oh!’ said Shara, leaping off the fence. ‘I think he has an even better trick in mind.’

  Before she could grab his halter, Goldie had all four feet balanced precariously on the metal bucket. As it began to buckle under his weight, he half pounced, half scrambled over the fence. The girls watched, open-mouthed, as he landed on the other side in a clatter of hooves.

  Goldie braced his legs beneath him and shook like a dog, as if ridding himself of the yard once and for all. He paused momentarily to take in his new surroundings, then burst into a gallop, squealing and grunting, tail in the air. Rocko snorted and followed, his tail upright and waving like a banner.

  ‘Wowww,’ said Grace in an awestruck voice. ‘He’s a freak.’ She looked at Shara, eyes full of excitement.

  ‘He’s a complete nightmare,’ said Shara. ‘How am I going to keep him in?’ She reached for a halter and began walking down the paddock. ‘How am I even going to catch him?’

  Grace ran after her. ‘All the good ones take a bit more effort, Shara. That’s what Mum says. The only thing standing between a smart horse and the knacker’s yard is good training!’

  ‘I think he needs un-training!’ said Shara. ‘Look at him!’ The colt was careering around the paddock with his nose in the air, making a complete mockery of her. Rocko frolicked alongside him, sharing in the joke.

  ‘I’ve never seen such a smart horse,’ said Rosie, jogging after them.

  ‘He is so beautiful.’ Grace stared, love-struck, after the colt. ‘You are so lucky.’

  ‘Lucky?’ What on earth was she going to do with a horse that could jump shoulder-high fences?

  It took quite a bit of talking to convince Shara’s father of Goldie’s freakish talents and the need for electric fencing. In the end Barry went to buy some tape and insulators just to get her off his case. Then he spent the afternoon helping the girls to screw little plastic rings to the top of the fence and thread electric tape through it.

  Shara stood back and regarded the white strip that ran the perimeter of the yard. ‘That should keep him in,’ she said with her hands on her hips. She felt much better.

  ‘Well, it’ll do as a temporary solution,’ said Barry. ‘But he can’t live in a pen his whole life, Shara. You’ll have to train him to stay inside fences.’

  ‘Of course, good training, that’s what he needs.’ But Shara wasn’t at all sure how she would do that. Goldie could also undo gates. They’d have to padlock everything.

  ‘Maybe he’ll settle down after a week or so,’ said Grace. ‘He’s probably never stayed in one place for long. The contractors always had him on the move.’ She patted Goldie’s neck. ‘You’ve never had a real home, have you, mate?’

  Shara wished she could feel as optimistic. ‘Maybe he just needs a routine. Horses love routine. They’re creatures of habit.’ She took the power box in her hand. ‘Stand clear.’

  ‘Clear,’ they all chorused, stepping away from the white tape. It clicked intermittently as the current pulsed through it.

  Shara let Goldie go in the yard again. ‘Fingers crossed.’

  Goldie sniffed at the air and remained still for a while, ears flicking about, picking up the click of the tape. After moseying around the inner yard for a while, he eventually sighed, walked into the shelter and busied himself with the hay, pulling big tufts from the manger and chewing contentedly.

  ‘That seems to be working,’ said Shara, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘He’s not going anywhere near it.’

  ‘Here comes Mum,’ said Grace suddenly. ‘Wait till she sees him.’

  Mrs Arnold’s four-wheel drive rolled up behind them. She hung an elbow out the window. ‘Geez, you’ve got him fenced in like Fort Knox.’

  ‘We had to,’ said Grace, running over to the window. ‘You should see how clever he is at getting out. He jumps on buckets!’

  ‘What do you mean, he jumps on buckets?’

  ‘He picks them up in his teeth and then uses them like a stepladder to get out.’

  ‘You need to geld him,’ said Mrs Arnold. ‘That’ll settle him. Cuts out a bit of their brains, but he’s got a few to spare by the sound of it.’

  ‘Of course!’ said Shara. Mrs Arnold was a genius! Colts were always a bit mischievous. As soon as she cleared gelding with the RSPCA, all would be fine!

  8

  SHARA WOKE TO the sound of the telephone.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she could hear her mother saying. ‘Mr Hickling, I’m terribly sorry . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . Oh dear. I really am sorry. I’ll send Shara straight away.’

  ‘Oh God!’ Shara leapt from her bed and rushed to Louise as she hung up the phone. ‘What happened? Who was that?’

  ‘It’s Goldie again,’ said Louise shortly. ‘Mr Hickling found him in his orchard this morning. He’s devoured two tubs of lychees and damaged some of the trees.’

  Shara groaned. ‘How did he get out this time?’

  ‘I don’t know, love. But you’d better find a way to keep him in or he’ll have to go back to the RSPCA. We don’t want to get offside with the neighbours.’

  Shara’s heart sank. ‘But the RSPCA only have stables! That’s why they sent him here, so he could get out and graze. He needs to stretch his legs and be with other horses, otherwise he might as well be tied to a contractor’s truck all day.’

  ‘Maybe, but I don’t know what else you can do. He can’t just roam the neighbourhood at will.’

  ‘Just give him one more chance. Please? I’ll go and collect him and then I’ll check the electric wire. Maybe it shorted out on some grass or something.’

  Shara threw on some old clothes, took a halter from the shed and walked up the road to the Hickling property. In the orchard, among the big, glossy lychee trees, fruit pickers stood on ladders tossing handfuls of red fruit into plastic tubs. As
she approached, Shara could see Goldie’s scrawny rump at the end of a row. His head was deep in a plastic tub, and there was a mess of skins and pips trampled beneath his feet. He looked up at her with a face full of slobber, well pleased with himself.

  ‘He’s been having a fine feast on my lychees, the little so-and-so,’ said a voice from behind her. She spun around. Mr Hickling stood there in a green apron, holding a pair of cutters in his hand.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr Hickling. I’ll pay for the fruit you’ve lost,’ said Shara.

  ‘No need this time,’ he said, softening. ‘But see that he doesn’t get out again, hey? He’s had a good old scratch on my trees and broken off some branches. I can’t afford any more damage like that.’

  ‘I promise it won’t happen again,’ said Shara, slipping a halter over Goldie’s head. She pulled the reluctant colt away from the tub, deeply embarrassed.

  ‘This is not funny, Goldie,’ she scolded, as the colt trotted happily behind her, licking the last traces of juice from his lips. ‘If you do it again, you’ll have to be locked up all day. Then we’ll see how chirpy you are.’

  When she arrived home, Barry was in the yard, fitting extra rails and padlocks to the shelter.

  ‘I can’t believe how smart this horse is, Shara. When he’s not doing circus tricks, he’s being an electrician.’ He pointed to the tree that hung over the yard. ‘He snapped an overhead branch so that it fell on the electric wire and shorted out the circuit!’

  ‘Surely he didn’t do that on purpose. It must have been . . . a possum . . . or something?’

  ‘And we just had two more phone calls about him. Anna Paget said he opened one of her gates and let all her goats out. Wes Jenkins said he’s been in their yard pulling all the washing off the line. When they chased him, he jumped over the fence and ran away.’ He shook his head. ‘He’ll just have to stay locked up while we’re not home.’

  Shara groaned and ran her hand over Goldie’s neck. ‘What are we going to do with you, little fella? You’re just too clever for your own good.’

  Goldie looked back at her with large, dark eyes and pressed his head into her chest. Shara gave his forehead a rub. ‘We need to have you gelded, little man. That’ll keep you out of mischief.’

  ‘I’ve already rung the RSPCA about that,’ said Barry, packing up his tools. ‘They said they can’t geld him until they know who owns him.’

  Shara’s heart sank. ‘So meanwhile he has to stay padlocked in a stable.’

  ‘Yes, and they said there was nothing they could do for the moment. As long as he’s fed properly and taken out once a day for exercise, he’ll be okay.’

  ‘Poor Goldie, he’ll go crazy. He’s too smart to be staring at four walls all day. He’s not like normal horses.’

  Shara led Goldie into the shelter next to the yard and turned him about. It was much smaller than a regular stable. Her dad had originally built it as a little feed and tack shed. Goldie would barely be able to move in it. She unclipped him and reached for the tin bucket in the corner. ‘Better keep this out of reach, hey.’ She padlocked the door behind her and turned to give him one last look. ‘It’s gonna be a long day for you, fella.’

  As Shara mounted Rocko and headed out for a ride, she tried to ignore Goldie’s long, pleading whinny. She kicked Rocko into a gallop and rode until she couldn’t hear it anymore.

  A well-worn track wove through the trees and yellowed leaves spun silently to the ground below. As she rode along the river’s edge, whipbirds sent long, cracking calls to each other, and golden whistlers flitted about in the lower bushes making happy chewitt noises. The cool, shady stretches beneath the coachwood trees soothed away the worry in Shara’s mind. She rode in and out of the riverbed, cantering along grassy stretches and then ducking to take the next crossing before reaching the old drovers’ yards.

  Jess’s unmistakable laughter rang through the trees. She only ever laughed like that when she was with Luke. Before long a tall black horse splashed through the creek, two huge dogs gambolling alongside. Luke, with his wild hair, jeans and bare feet, rode Legsy bareback. Jess sat behind him in shorts and old runners. ‘Hey, Sharsy!’

  Shara sighed at the sight of them. They were such a cute couple. It would be great to find a guy like that. But right now she was having trouble even dealing with a horse. Adding a boy to her life would make things way too complicated.

  Then another black horse identical to Luke’s emerged from the trees. Its rider was deeply tanned and wore black jeans and a polo shirt. ‘Tom!’ Shara cried in surprise. ‘You’re home too!’ She rode over and stroked Nosey’s beautiful black face.

  Tom grinned. ‘How’s vet school?’

  ‘Great. How’s your school?’ Tom also went to boarding school, but his was only a couple of hours away in Brisbane. He got to be home on weekends. Over the holidays, though, he just stayed at Harry’s place with Luke. His parents, both lawyers, worked non-stop.

  Tom shrugged. ‘I’d rather stay in Coachwood Crossing, but them’s the breaks.’

  ‘Mr Hickling came into the bakery this morning – he told me about Goldie eating all his lychees,’ said Jess as they splashed through the water. ‘Wasn’t real impressed.’

  Shara was shocked that news about the colt’s antics had got out so quickly. It couldn’t have been much more than an hour since she’d caught Goldie in the lychee orchard.

  ‘The whole town is talking about him,’ said Jess. ‘Anna Paget was too.’

  Shara groaned. ‘Maybe he’s just more trouble than he’s worth.’

  ‘Don’t give up on him yet. He’s a beautiful horse.’

  They turned away from the drovers’ yard and continued up along the creek through the dappled light.

  ‘That horse has the bloodlines to be something really special,’ Luke said. ‘That black stallion of the Connemans’ is a smart horse, and the mare is a tablelands brumby. She’d be super hardy.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we don’t really know if they’re Goldie’s parents,’ said Shara, feeling suddenly disheartened. ‘He might just be some rogue horse.’

  ‘Don’t get down about him, Sharsy,’ said Jess. ‘He’s just never been given a chance. With the right training and good care, he’ll be fine.’

  ‘Easy for you to say.’

  ‘Hey, I saw those contractors at the Brisbane Ekka a few days ago,’ said Tom. ‘I was checking out a cattle show and they were there setting up for the Queensland roping finals.’

  ‘What, the Conneman brothers?’ asked Shara.

  ‘Yeah. It was definitely their truck. Had their name written all over it.’

  ‘Did they have any horses there, or just cattle?’

  ‘Heaps of cattle and a few rough-looking horses,’ said Tom. ‘They looked like brumbies.’

  ‘Was there a red taffy?’

  Tom looked thoughtful, then nodded. ‘Yeah, I think there was.’

  ‘If only we could prove that she’s Goldie’s mother. That would show that the Connemans are Goldie’s owners and should be charged with neglect, and then the RSPCA would be free to re-home him. I could just get on with owning him and taking care of him.’

  Jess flashed a scheming grin. ‘Well, why don’t we pay the Connemans a quick visit in Brisbane? Get the proof we need?’

  When Shara rode Rocko down the driveway that afternoon, she found both parents waiting for her at the top of the steps.

  ‘Hi, guys. What’s up?’ Two parents usually meant things were serious.

  ‘I want you to come inside and have a chat,’ said Barry in a stern voice. He turned and walked through the door.

  When Shara followed, he motioned for her to sit down at the kitchen table. Then he stood with his back to her, looking out the window. ‘I was cleaning out the feed shed today, and I found some empty spray cans in the rubbish.’

  ‘What sort of spray cans?’ Shara tried her best to stay calm and sound innocent.

  ‘Coloured hairspray cans, the sort used on those wild horses at
the rodeo.’ Both parents stared at Shara with cold, unmoving faces.

  ‘Oh, them.’ Shara shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Jess and I used those for a fancy dress ages ago.’

  Her father was unswayed. ‘Stop talking rubbish, Shara, and tell me how they really got there.’

  Shara sighed. ‘Okay, it was us. Me and Jess.’ She saw no reason to dob in Rosie and Grace.

  She watched two pairs of shoulders slump. Her mother gave an exasperated sigh.

  ‘But those Connemans deserved it.’

  Barry planted his hands on his hips, the way he always did when he was about to begin a lecture. ‘You can’t just go around breaking the law every time you don’t like something. Laws are there for very good reasons—’ Shara interrupted before her father could get into a good flow. ‘But someone had to protect those horses. Don’t they deserve to be protected?’

  ‘They are protected, by the law, and so are their owners. They—’ ‘But they don’t deserve to be, Dad. The Connemans are cruel.’ Shara searched desperately for an ethical argument – where was Jess when she needed her? ‘Don’t you think we have a moral obligation to protect the weak?’ She’d heard an American activist say that on television once and it had sounded very convincing.

  It didn’t convince her father. ‘Shara, there are many ways you can put your views across and make a stand. You can lobby, start petitions, walk around naked in a sandwich board if you like, but you cannot wilfully deface someone else’s property. I can see that there was good intention in what you did, but you have to live by society’s rules instead of being an annoying prankster.’

  ‘How come when adults do these things they get called activists and when kids do it they just get called pranksters? You should have seen those poor brumbies. They were completely brutalised. But now they’ve been rescued, thanks to our pranks. Look at the state Goldie was in when we found him. Those people are no good, Dad. Even Corey Duggin says so and he’s a rodeo rider!’