bringing 'em in, [R]

[Corowa]

“Nah reckon it’s the ones with some station blood in ‘em that can get flipped for a couple of bob,” Tom remarked, and his mouth flattened into a grim line. “The bloody horse built this country and now it’s gettin’ run out. Soon you won’t be able to find a decent workhorse this side of the Murray, least not something you could buy for ten quid or so.”

He shook his head and scowled. “Damn shame I reckon.” The bush had thinned to only a few huge, gnarled snowgums. Jack pricked his ears and softly snorted. There was the jingle of the bit as the stockhorse fought for his head, but Tom rode him with a heavy hand, and the horse jibbed and jigged beneath him.

A fairly small mob of brumbies were grazing on the opposite slope. Tom leaned forwards in the saddle and squinted. He reckoned there might be a couple worth a look. There was a big brown bugger further up the slope, and Tom thought they’d have would have to watch him if the mob really got riled. He’d rather face the meanest scrub bull this side of the High Country than take his chances with a bloody mad stallion.

With a nod at the wrangler, Tom fingered the rope coiled around the saddle, with work-calloused hands. “So how’s about I show you Mannering, what a real stockman, mountain born and bred can do.” The stockman grinned, and swinging his stockwhip, he let it go with a ringing crack. Then he dug in his heels and let Jack have his head.

The stockhorse took the bit strongly in his mouth, and plunged forwards at a fast gallop. Tom sat easily in the saddle, and the horse swung about a clump of snowgums with a touch of the reins. Jack carried the bloodlines of some of the best station horses, and could go on for miles over some of the roughest mountain country. “Come on mate, don’t wanna get left behind on that old plug of yours!” Tom shouted over his shoulder, and there on the opposite slope, the brumbies really started to run.

[Tiggs]

“Pah, I hear you, mate.” He replied. “Most of my brumbies go for dog meat, and the good ones are overlooked for something with a bit of breeding. I’ll tell you, breeding ain’t just what makes a good worker. A brumby will work hard and fast if you train it right. Might not be a looker, but it’ll do the job better than any purebreed.”

Just then a mob came into view, and both Jason and Marie came to attention. Jason was already reaching for his rope as he gave a nod to Tom, and his knees tightened on Marie’s sides as Tom and Jack sped off. Marie tossed her head, eager to be off and Jason let her go. She was at a gallop within a few strides with Jason standing in the stirrups for balance.

While Tom aimed to drive the herd, Jason and Marie made for a wider angle so they might better flank the running brumby herd. The wranglers were quite a way back, but their horses were fresh and healthy. Jason frequently hunted brumbies in the Gap, so their escape routes were well known to the man.

They slowly gained on the herd, and Jason was grinning. There was nothing like a good chase to raise spirits.