Foal's Bread Read Online Free Page A

the idiot I was, I paid bloody Baffy out last night.’
    But she knew it wasn’t that. That the bit of black in them Neville brothers must’ve sensed what had happened. Smelt it somehow, if not the blood, maybe the death coming for the baby in its boat. ‘We’ll be right I reckon, Dad. With these quieties. You’ll see. Leave off!’ she shouted to the pair of unchained dogs that had gone all wild and eager at her the moment she was up.
    â€˜Oh pigs, no worries! But we’d worked out at shanty to take eighty head of horses back over range. And how’re we meant to do that minus that pair of unreliable bastards?’
    â€˜We’ll find a way, Dad.’ And after Port Lake Show, they would too, using a leather punch to put a hole in the ear of each horse in the race before stringing them all together with twine.
    â€˜Those pigs of Nancarrow’s are fat as butter, aren’t they?’
    â€˜Don’t talk about butter,’ said her father sorrowfully. ‘Speakin of quieties, you’re a bit of a one this morning. Still mournin yer uncle, is that it? He had a good life. Died in his boots, just the way he would’ve wanted to you know? What happened to your wrist then?’ Her own teeth marks were turning black and blue. ‘Don’t tell me one of them old boars have a go at you?’
    â€˜Nup.’ She tugged her sleeve down. ‘’Nother nightmare.’
    â€˜Glad I wasn’t there. Must’ve bin a scary one.’ Her father tousled her hair and peered over. ‘Well here’s something to cheer you up ’t any rate—I got you a few rides for show.’
    â€˜What, Wirri?’
    â€˜Just missed that. But Port Lake starts Fridee week. Hold on and I’ll stop flies getting in that wrist.’ He got out some Settling Day and whooshed it over the marks. ‘Yep. Got the rides for ya in the hunts on some of Lance Oldfield’s ponies. When I told him there wasn’t no horse too tricky that my daughter couldn’t git over a jump he said if you’re game you can even ride his big bay, Rainbird . In ladies’ high jump. I told him to enter your name in. Can always cancel. So how about that? Once we git to Wirri we’ll load pigs on boat. Have a bit of a rest. Wash off smell of pig! I once had a horse not used to smell of pig go berserk on me.’
    â€˜What, threw you?’
    â€˜Oh, rearing up. Carryin on it was, but gee it ended up winning some prize money for Errol Haines.’
    As her father waded into high-jump talk, Noah felt a surge of confidence. Butter box’s disappearance easy now to blame on that Brian and Baffy pissing off. Nearly a whole week to recover. That Rainbird to ride, maybe.
    All around them were pigs beginning to look restless. About a dozen of the little red porkers lined the beach of last night, taking a drink.
    Father and daughter sat in silence then, munching up corn meat sandwiches without butter. Having been crucified in the night by that which already she was thinking of as Little Mister made Noah hungry with amazement. She choked on the mustard and smiled over at her father.
    â€˜You’re very spruiky,’ he said, smiling back.
    The autumn morning was fresh and beautiful, the water sparkling all blue and silvery as it rushed away east. Uncle Nipper reckoned a fox was like a woman what had lost her mind, she remembered, seeing a small red shape disappear at the corner of her eye.
    â€˜Bet if Uncle Nip were here he’d have caught at least one yella-belly by now,’ offered the girl. ‘See that one glinting?’ With a memory arriving of her uncle, of the golden quality of a few of the hairs in amongst the snowy ones on his huge forearms, for a moment her eyes grew watery.
    Her father slapped her on the knee. ‘Looks like the weather’s going to hold real good for the show.’
    â€˜Get some rides for yourself too, Dad?’
    â€˜Why would I