Brumby Mountain by Karen Wood Read Free Book Online

places. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna find a brumby.’
    â€˜It’s in the tablelands. Mathews’ Flat.’
    Mrs Arnold sighed. ‘Where you were born. You want to go back there.’
    She looked at Annie.
    Annie shrugged. ‘Think about it, Judy. It’d be good for Luke to go, connect with his past a bit. I could throw some hay to the horses while he’s gone. Lawson would help.’
    Mrs Arnold’s shoulders dropped resignedly.
    Jess grinned. She could feel an adventure coming on.
    It seemed to take hours to make all the necessary phone calls. Caroline wanted to speak to everyone: Jess, Luke, Mrs Arnold, Annie and then Jess again. But she finally said yes. ‘Let me break it to your father,’ she said before she hung up. ‘And you must take some decent food. I don’t want you eating truck-stop garbage all the way there.’
    Luke agreed to wait until the next weekend. Grace and Mrs Arnold would follow behind in Mrs Arnold’s four-wheel drive. Luke refused point-blank to ride in the car with her or let her tow his horse. ‘I want to take my own car,’ he insisted.
    Luke picked Jess up before daybreak on Saturday morning. Filth and Fang panted happily in the back of the HQ ute. Jess gave them quick pats before she loaded Dodger next to Luke’s big black gelding, Legsy, then closed the tail ramp and hugged her parents goodbye.
    They drove through Coachwood Crossing and turned south towards the freeway as the sun was rising. A sense of freedom filled Jess and she wondered what the weekend might bring.
    A few Ks down the road she noticed there was no four-wheel drive behind them. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for Mrs A to catch up?’ she asked, staring out the back window.
    â€˜We can join up with them later. I want to make a detour first.’
    â€˜Where to?
    â€˜Brisbane sales are on. Won’t be long – half an hour, max. You can text her if you like.’
    â€˜You didn’t tell me about this.’ She whacked him on the arm. ‘I promised I’d be good!’
    He looked at her bag on the seat beside him. ‘Your phone got Google?’
    Jess groaned. ‘Luke, you’re hopeless!’
    â€˜Look up the sales. See what time they start.’
    She pulled her phone from her bag and googled the Brisbane saleyards while Luke drove.
    â€˜Bidding starts at eleven a.m. with the yarded horses, which are knackery suspects and unbroken types,’ she read off her phone. ‘Then riding horses are sold through a ring. Saddlery is at the completion of the horse sales.’
    â€˜We’ve got time,’ said Luke, checking his watch.
    Jess sent Mrs Arnold a brief text suggesting a time for a rendezvous at the Mathews’ Flat Hotel and then turned the phone off so as not to hear her protests.
    The saleyards were a sea of steel pipes and stamped concrete. Laneways ran through yard after yard and bridges and ramps crossed overhead, with stockmen and auctioneers yodelling prices and upping the bids. Most horses stood listlessly, a few seemed agitated. There were all types, from magnificent broken-down racing stallions to aged kids’ ponies and fluffy miniatures. Some had obvious vices like wind-sucking, others looked completely innocent. Some were in appalling condition.
    A small foal in particular looked too young to be away from its mother. It was scrawny, with a wormy belly and too many bones showing. Flies crawled in its ears but it seemed too lethargic to shake its tiny head.
    â€˜Probably pick that one up for twenty bucks,’ said a grey-faced man as he walked past. ‘Hasn’t got enough meat on it for the doggers.’
    Jess shuddered and was relieved when two women entered the yard and began discussing how to get it home.
    People walked in and out of the yards, lifting horses’ lips and checking teeth. They poked and prodded, picked up legs and inspected hooves.
    Crowds of people crushed around the