The Quicksand Pony Read Online Free PDF Page A

the bitter coffee he tasted. As he left, he brushed away his footprints with a branch, and his visit would have stayed a secret but for the beautiful red knife that fell out of his shirt as Joycie tucked him into bed that night. She had told him not to touch any of their things, to stay away, and she felt sick when she saw the Swiss Army knife. She smacked him, the only time she ever did, and told him terrible stories about what the people would do to little boys they found snooping in their camp. Then she took the knife and rushed out into the night, leaving him sobbing and confused at the way she’d turned on him.

    But when he woke the next morning, she was laughing. ‘I crept up to their camp and they were talking about the knife. See, you naughty boy, they already missed it. You can’t take people’s things. I sat and waited until they went to bed and then I tossed the knife, a big high toss, and it landed right in the middle of all the tents. I was about to leave when, suddenly, out of one tent pops a head, staring at the knife lying there in the firelight. He must of heard it land. The man crawled out and picked up the knife and he scratched his head. He just kept scratching his head!’
    Joe kept his distance after that, but he could see they were gentle people. They seemed to care about this place of his and the animals and plants that lived in it, and he really couldn’t believe the stories Joycie told.
    It was the same with the drovers. When they brought the cattle down, or came to muster, Joycie tried to keep him in the valley, and told him what bad people they were. But as he grew older, Joe could see this wasn’t true.
    In fact, Joycie knew who the drovers were. It would be the Frasers. She used to muck around with Dave Fraser when she was a kid. But she wasn’t going to tell Joe that. Dave was probably just like the rest now.
    Joe was used to the cattle—they were around all winter—and they were fun to chase, if Joycie didn’t see. But the horses, Joe loved the horses—their manes, their swishing tails, and the gentle nickering that greeted him when he crept up to pat them in the night. The last time the drovers came, Joe defied Joycie and shadowed the cattle and horses for two days until they left. He wasn’t game to let himself be seen, but at night he lay in the dark like a hungry dog, devouring the scraps of stories and songs that drifted from the campfire. He went back to the valley determined to make Joycie see that she was wrong, that these people would not hurt him, but she was so distraught, so crazy with worry that he couldn’t begin to explain. When she finally calmed down, she held him fiercely and wept into his hair. ‘I thought you’d gone. I thought they’d taken you.’ Her voice was thick against his neck. ‘You think they look like nice people but I know. I’ve been in the town. Never, never let anyone see you. They’ll take you away. They killed your dad. Even Pops couldn’t save him.’
    Joe sighed and hugged her close. It wasn’t Joycie looking after him any more. It was him looking after Joycie.
    That night they sat on the whale rock that jutted into the sea at Whiting Beach. Joycie hummed a tune but Joe didn’t join in. His mind was racing. Joycie’s fear made him wary, and he was bound to stay and care for her, but the lights across the bay were drawing him like a moth to a flame.

The stars were still bright in the night sky. Biddy sat on her pony at the garden fence, waiting impatiently to begin the ride down to the headland. She had never been up so early, let alone in the saddle at this hour. The biting wind was waking her, but the porridge she’d eaten for breakfast, and her woolly gloves and beanie and new oilskin coat, kept her snug and warm.
    Bella wasn’t used to being saddled so early. She stamped and jiggled, her silver mane glinting in the light from the