Free Opal Dreaming by Karen Wood Page A

bulldozer poked out from a wide doorway. In a distant yard, a few small, scruffy horses took shelter from the blistering sun under a stringy sapling.
    â€˜Hey, that’s Rusty,’ said Jess, leaning over Shara to get a look out the opposite window. The little red brumby with his thick shaggy tail was unmistakeable. ‘Oh my God, look! There’s Tinks! They haven’t turned them out yet!’ Jess opened the door. ‘Opal must be here too!’
    â€˜At least let me stop before you get out,’ said Mrs Arnold, as Jess suspended one leg out of the vehicle. ‘If you’ll just hang on, I’ll drive over there.’
    Jess held the door ajar as they rumbled over the lumpy ground to the small yard. She strained to see into the yards, and was out and running before Mrs Arnold had the handbrake on.
    â€˜Opal,’ she called, as she took hold of the top rail and peered under it. ‘Where are you, girl?’ Tinks and Rusty swished their tails and flicked an ear in her direction. ‘I can’t see her. Where is she? Opal!’
    A man in jeans and a big hat walked out of the huge shed and strode towards her with a piece of greasy machinery and an old rag in his hands. Jess recognised his dark, familiar face with its neatly trimmed beard – it was the stockman who’d offered to buy Dodger at the Longwood campdraft.
    â€˜Bob, where’s the foal?’ Mrs Arnold demanded, her thongs slapping as she walked to the yards.
    The stockman pointed to the other end of the yard, where a small brown lump lay lifelessly in the sun, camouflaged by a coating of dust. ‘Sleeping.’
    â€˜Grace reckons it’s got a spastic head. Is that right?’ Mrs Arnold folded her body over and let herself through the fence.
    Jess glared at Grace, who held up her hands in innocence.
    Bob nodded gravely, as he rubbed at the thing in his hands.
    â€˜Be careful, she attacks people,’ warned Jess, climbing up onto the fence.
    â€˜So does Mum,’ Grace sniggered.
    Mrs Arnold gave her daughter a look of thunder, then turned to Jess. ‘Want me to look at the horse or not?’
    Jess looked to Rosie.
    â€˜It’s okay, she knows what she’s doing,’ her friend reassured her. ‘Come and sit on the fence and watch.’
    Judy Arnold marched over to where Opal lay, then continued walking straight past her.
    The filly startled and scrambled to her feet. She whinnied as she galloped to the other horses, who whinnied back and trotted to meet her.
    â€˜They’re looking after her,’ said Jess. It was a touching sight. Opal nuzzled into Rusty’s side and Tinks came around from behind, circling her.
    Mrs Arnold turned and walked past Opal again. As she did, Opal flattened her ears and broke from the mob, rushing at her.
    The woman spun to face her, looked directly into her eyes and yelled ‘ BAAAH! ’ so loudly that Jess nearly fell off the fence. Opal stopped in her tracks and stared like a startled possum.
    For a brief moment, the woman and the scrawny foal locked eyes, until Mrs Arnold waved her arms and yelled, ‘Gwahn! Get!’ Opal scuttled off to the other horses and Mrs Arnold turned her back and walked off. Opal trotted out and lunged at the intruder again, but Mrs Arnold spun around, and drove her away once more.
    â€˜It’s got debil debil in its head, that one,’ said Bob.
    Jess spun and glared at him.
    He nodded at her. ‘How’s Dodger? You wanna sell that old fulla yet?’
    Jess shook her head. ‘Sorry.’
    Bob gestured at Opal in the camp. ‘That horse is from the min mins. She got debil debil in her head. I told Lawson.’
    â€˜She’s not Lawson’s horse, she’s mine,’ Jess corrected him. ‘And she’s not a dud, if that’s what you’re trying to say.’
    In the yards, Mrs Arnold kept pushing Opal away, and the more she did so, the more Opal came at her – or