Free Opal Dreaming by Karen Wood Page B

to her, Jess realised. It was hard to tell when the turnaround happened. After several more clashes, Mrs Arnold allowed Opal to follow for a few paces. Then she bent and lowered herself to the ground, sitting on one heel, with her hands crossed easily over her knee.
    Opal dropped her crooked head and sniffed the back of her neck, and, without looking at her, Mrs Arnold reached back to give her a gentle rub. As though in a trance, Opal closed her eyes and rested her muzzle on the woman’s shoulder.
    â€˜You do need some help, don’t you, little one,’ Mrs Arnold murmured as she stroked the bony forehead.
    â€˜Pretty cool, huh?’ Rosie whispered to Jess.
    â€˜That is amazing,’ whispered Jess in awe. ‘No one has ever been able to get near her without tranquillising her first.’
    Shara gave Jess an excited squeeze. ‘Maybe her head’s getting better!’
    Jess turned to Bob. ‘See? No debil debil !’
    Bob continued polishing the thing in his hand. His expression didn’t change.
    Mrs Arnold let the foal be and walked back towards the LandCruiser. Jess ran after her. ‘How did you do that, Mrs Arnold? No one has ever been able to get near her before.’
    â€˜I just talked to her on her own terms,’ said Mrs Arnold. ‘Not that she had anything nice to say. Come on, we have to get going. Jump in.’
    Jess turned to Bob. ‘Who’s looking after the horses back here?’
    â€˜Oh, plenty of fullas to look after them, lots of staff. The debil horse stays at the homestead till Lawson gets back and makes sure she’s okay before he lets her out onto the station.’ He stared knowingly at Jess. ‘Said life wouldn’t be worth living if anything happened to her.’
    â€˜He got that bit right,’ said Jess. ‘So what if anything happens when we’re out droving?’
    â€˜They got Lawson’s number. They’ll call if she goes downhill.’
    Jess ran to the four-wheel drive, scrawled her mobile number on the back of a scrap of paper and dashed back to Bob. ‘Can you tell them that this is the number to ring if anything happens to that filly? They’re to ring me, not Lawson.’
    Bob gave her an uneasy look.
    â€˜ I’m the owner. They need to ring me ,’ Jess repeated, shoving the piece of paper at him.
    Bob looked at Mrs Arnold. ‘Who owns the horse?’
    Mrs Arnold shrugged. ‘Lawson did promise it to her.’
    Bob hesitantly took the number and walked back to the shed with it.
    Jess squeezed into the LandCruiser with the other girls, her neck craned back to the yards. She felt a lifting of the heaviness she had been carrying, a sudden sense of hope. Mrs Arnold’s link-up with Opal was only a small step, but it was a forward one.
    â€˜Hopping on, Bob?’ yelled Mrs Arnold, as she started the engine.
    Bob emerged from the shed, slinging a small pack over his shoulder, and jumped onto the running board that ran along the side of the four-wheel drive. He banged twice on the roof and Mrs Arnold shoved the vehicle into first and took off.
    Jess stuck her head out the window. ‘Are you coming droving too?’
    Bob nodded. ‘Horse tailer – my favourite job!’

10
    THEY REACHED THE CAMP just as the sun was setting. Jess was relieved. If she had to listen to her friends sing the Kasey Chambers pony song one more time, she was going to have an aneurism.
    The country was dotted with mulga trees and tufts of Mitchell grass, which Jess knew were filled with nutritional goodness despite a wiry, outwardly parched appearance. A gooseneck trailer towed by Lawson’s ute was parked by the side of a dirt track; a chunky stockman in black jeans tended the fire; tethered horses swished their tails, and motorbikes, scattered saddles and cooking equipment were strewn about. Another ute, old and yellow and missing the driver’s door, was parked nearby with a motorbike in the