By Ron Bunney
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Her expression was like that of a horse that knew it was about to be put down. His heart melted and his thoughts changed course. They needed to stick together, and whichever direction they took, they were going to need another riding horse. And where on earth could he get that? Not on this track, that was certain. He sighed, looked at Beth and found his voice. ‘Right. Christine can ride Blackie. ’ Beth snapped. ’ Martin shot to his feet. ‘All right, damn you! ’ He stomped over to the horses. They were restless, and he knew why.
There was no time for explanation. And there still isn’t. Help Christine onto Blackie. You mount Picky. I’ll run for a while. ’ ‘Do you think they’ll come back after us? ’ ‘And leave their wagons unattended for that long? I doubt that. ’ The three of them stared at each other then the two girls quickly repacked the few things they had unloaded. Martin looked around to see nothing had been missed. His glance fell on the discarded whips. He scooped them up — and started a panic. Beth screamed. She had been holding Picky but the horse was now pulling and rearing back on the reins.
I am really trying to help. Can’t you see that? ’ A prickly silence settled over them all and Christine hung her head, sorry at having caused so much trouble. It was a triple stalemate. Then Beth’s face brightened. ’ Martin knew where it was. He dug it out. ’ 81 ‘Christine and I have some sewing to do. Go and feed your horses. Or tell them fairy stories or whatever it is you do. ’ Martin fumed. Couldn’t she say anything without insulting him? He led the horses to a fresh patch of grass and pointedly kept his eyes averted from the girls.