The River Charm Read Online Free PDF

with her gloved hand and surveying the scenery. ‘It’s just so lovely to be out riding instead of doing chores or studying. Where would you prefer?’
    â€˜Why don’t we ride up to the top of the mountain?’ replied Charlotte, pointing with her riding crop. ‘It’s so tranquil up there, and I’m sure we’ll find something pretty to sketch. It’s such a glorious day.’
    Charlotte was a striking girl with large black eyes, pale skin and curly black hair that tumbled down her back, under her broad-brimmed straw hat. Her sister Emily had a daintier prettiness with soft brown ringlets and gentle hazel eyes.
    â€˜Good idea,’ agreed Emily. ‘I’d like to pick some wattle for Mamma if we can find some.’
    Charlotte whistled for Samson, who came bounding back obediently. Then she clicked her tongue to encourage her mare and headed left towards Gingenbullen Mountain, which loomed above the farmland covered in thick, silvery-green eucalypt forest. A track had been carved through the bush, leading up to the summit. Bellbirds chimed in the treetops, their songs echoing out over the valley. The two horses panted and puffed as they plodded up the slope, their hooves sliding on the rocky slope.
    The girls rode in silence, enjoying the rustling sounds of the bush. A couple of pale-grey wallabies started then bounded across the track and into the scrub on the other side. Samson barked madly after them, his tail wagging.
    â€˜Leave them, Samson,’ ordered Charlotte, whistling him back to heel. Charlotte’s black mare, Ophelia, arched her neck and pranced skittishly.
    As the track flattened out near the grassy summit, Charlotte kicked her heels into her horse’s side and broke into a gallop. Charlotte’s heart soared as the wind whipped her face and tangled her flying hair. Ophelia’s hooves thundered on the track, kicking up clods of earth and flying scree.
    Emily followed at a much slower pace, her grey horse, Clarie, picking its way through the tussocks of grass.
    â€˜Come on, Emily,’ Charlotte beckoned.
    â€˜I’m coming,’ replied her sister with a smile, urging her horse into a slow jog up the slope. ‘I just do not fancy having your mud flung all over me.’
    At the top of the ridge was a pastured clearing with two gnarled gum trees framing the view.
    The two girls pulled up and gazed back the way they had come. Below them lay cleared paddocks dotted with grazing sheep, each field bordered by carefully tended hawthorn hedges or conifer windbreaks. Graceful elms and yew trees grew along the creek line, which formed a series of wider waterholes linked by a narrower stream. On the slope above the creek was the honey-warm stone house, its outbuildings nestled among the gardens and trees. Further away on the other side of the river, in the bush, a thin plume of grey smoke snaked into the sky where the localGandangara clan was camping.
    â€˜Isn’t it lovely?’ cried Charlotte, patting Ophelia’s damp neck. ‘I never tire of this outlook.’
    â€˜It must be the most beautiful view in the world,’ agreed Emily. ‘The huts look like miniature doll’s houses.’
    The two horses quietly cropped the grass, their reins loose. Samson, pink tongue lolling, flopped down in the long grass. His thick black coat glistened in the sunlight.
    Charlotte slipped out of the saddle and rummaged in her saddlebag, pulling out her sketchbook and a bundle of pencils. A fallen tree provided a handy bench over­looking the view, as well as branches to tether the ponies to. She took a seat, removed her riding gloves and opened her sketchbook to reveal detailed drawings of dragonflies, beetles and butterflies.
    Emily dismounted and wandered around the clearing, searching for wildflowers, which she gathered into a large bunch of yellows, purples and reds. A sudden, unexpected sound caught her attention.
    â€˜What was