Brumby Rescue Read online

  About the Book

  When Poppy bids on a wild, beautiful brumby at an auction she doesn’t think about the consequences. Everyone believes she’s crazy trying to take on a wild horse – although Poppy is sure she can help him. But Poppy has no idea how difficult a wild brumby can be, and she’s heartbroken that he just won’t let her come near him.

  Will her brumby learn to love her, or has she taken on more than she can handle?

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE Auction Time

  CHAPTER TWO A Big Mistake

  CHAPTER THREE Ready or Not

  CHAPTER FOUR Trust Me

  CHAPTER FIVE The Name Game

  CHAPTER SIX Surprises

  CHAPTER SEVEN He Hates Me

  CHAPTER EIGHT Bad News

  CHAPTER NINE Brumby Love

  CHAPTER TEN Storm

  CHAPTER ELEVEN Surprise Find

  CHAPTER TWELVE Rescue Time

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN Riding Up a Storm

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN Farm Fun

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN Being Brave

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  For Mackenzie and Hunter – my fun-loving, imaginative, horse-loving boys!

  Poppy ran her hand along the rough edge of the timber fence. The wooden yard was large, the fence so tall she could only just see over it without standing on tiptoe, and she waited curiously for the auction to begin. Uncle Mark had told her to stay quiet and not get lost, but it was so hard to stay in one place when she desperately wanted to investigate.

  ‘Poppy.’

  She turned and smiled at Uncle Mark when she heard his deep voice.

  ‘I’m finished for now, but I think the auction’s about to start.’ He moved past a group of men and came to stand beside her. ‘Would you like to watch the first couple of horses go through?’

  Poppy nodded, heart beginning to pound when a crackle came over a loudspeaker and someone started to announce the start of the auction. She’d been looking forward to coming to the auction with her uncle for weeks, and she couldn’t wait to watch the horses and see how much they sold for.

  ‘Can we stay for the whole thing?’ she asked.

  He nodded. ‘You can watch it all if you like, but I’ll be going back and forth to check on the horses.’

  Poppy smiled. Uncle Mark’s job was to ensure that the people running the auction respected the welfare of the horses. She didn’t mind being left alone – she was just excited to be there.

  She opened her mouth to answer, but gasped instead as the first horse was brought into the pen.

  He was jet-black and glossy, head held high and proud as he was led around. The bidding started immediately, with numbers being called out as people held up their hands. Poppy was as amazed by the horse as she was by the noise and commotion around her. She felt the air getting all hot and stuffy as the bidding got faster and louder.

  ‘Is it always like this?’ she asked Mark, playing with the end of her ponytail.

  He leaned closer, eyes on the horse as he spoke to her. ‘They bring out the best first,’ he told her. ‘There’s always a lot of bidding for the good-quality sport and stock horses.’

  Poppy felt sorry for the majestic horse when bidding ended and the auctioneer slammed down his hammer and announced he’d been sold. When her aunt and uncle had brought Crystal for her, they’d taken her on a trial basis first to make sure they liked each other. She’d only been sold because her previous rider had outgrown her, and she was lucky because she hadn’t been sent to a scary auction. But this poor horse didn’t know where he was going, and there was no trial to check horse and rider got along.

  Next up was a chestnut mare with a foal at foot, and Poppy blinked away tears when the foal stumbled and cried out to its mother. He looked terrified of the crowd.

  The auctioneer announced that the foal was ready to be weaned, and Poppy cringed at the idea of them being parted.

  ‘Pops, I’m being called over,’ said Uncle Mark, gently. ‘Will you be okay here for a while?’

  She looked away from the yard. Suddenly the auction didn’t seem so fun. ‘Can I come with you?’

  ‘Sure thing. Just stay quiet and keep well back from the horses.’

  Poppy followed him as he started to move through the crowd, her tummy rumbling when she smelt hot chips and hotdogs.

  She slowed down when they entered the restricted area, ducking under the chain that separated the auction pens from the yards out the back. She wished her friends, Milly and Katie, were with her; they’d have loved to see what went on at a horse auction. She laughed out loud before clamping her hand over her mouth, feeling silly as she thought about her friends. Milly might actually kill her if she found out Poppy had taken the day off school and gone with Mark as his helper. Her friends would both be at Starlight Stables for the weekend though, and she couldn’t wait to see them.

  The clip-clop of hooves on concrete pulled Poppy from her thoughts. She looked up and locked eyes with a small, plain-looking grey horse. His sad brown gaze held hers for a moment before he was led away, and she hoped that he found a nice home with someone to love him.

  She moved out of the way, back against an old stable, as a tall, overweight man with a beard walked out of the shadows clutching a takeaway coffee. He didn’t look at her as he stepped over the chain that she’d ducked under. Poppy watched him disappear towards the auction yard. There was something about him she didn’t like.

  ‘I had to check on a lame horse,’ Uncle Mark said, appearing beside her.

  ‘What was wrong?’ she asked, glancing back over her shoulder uneasily. But the man was gone.

  ‘Stood on a nail, probably out there in the trailer parking area when he was unloaded.’

  ‘Will he be okay?’

  Uncle Mark nodded. ‘Stan Parker was sniffing around, keeping an eye on what I was doing, but even lame that horse will be too expensive for him.’

  The dark expression on her uncle’s face wasn’t something Poppy had ever seen before. He clearly didn’t like this Stan person.

  ‘Who’s Stan Parker?’

  ‘They call him the meat man,’ said Mark, frowning. ‘Big tall guy with a bulging stomach and a beard. He comes to all the auctions looking to buy up cheap horses.’

  A shiver ran through Poppy’s body. He sounded an awful lot like the man who’d just walked past her.

  ‘Why do they call him the “meat man”? Does he . . .’ Poppy gulped. Surely he wasn’t here buying horses for . . . She shook her head, horrified.

  ‘I’m sorry, Pops, I shouldn’t have said anything,’ Mark said, throwing an arm around her shoulders and giving her an awkward hug. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

  What she was thinking about was the sad grey horse. She hoped he wasn’t going to end up auctioned off to that man.

  ‘Uncle Mark, tell me. I need to know.’ She might only be twelve, but she loved horses and she didn’t like secrets. Even if it was the worst thing ever, she wanted to know the truth.

  ‘Look, Poppy, I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  She stared at him, biting down hard on her bottom lip and clenching her fists so hard that her nails dug into the palms. She felt sick.

  Her uncle sighed. ‘Any of the cheap horses get bought up by Stan and loaded on his truck to go off to the abattoir. It’s not nice, but it’s true. If no one else wants them, then they end up there.’

  Poppy actually thought she was going to vomit now. Her stomach was doing cartwheels and her mouth felt dry.

  ‘They use horse meat to make pet food sometimes. Usually it’s unwanted or injured racehorses, or brumbies that are rounded up and penned during a muster, and those animals get sold direct to him most of the time. But he always comes along to day
s like today, too, because after all the expensive horses have gone through there’s often some unwanted farm horses or lame older horses going cheap.’

  ‘I want to go back out there,’ Poppy declared, her face hot. All thoughts of chips were long gone. She understood that other animals had to eat, but she hated the thought of anyone killing horses.

  ‘It’s better if you don’t watch, now that you . . .’

  ‘Uncle Mark, I want to go back out. Please.’

  He stared at her long and hard before nodding. ‘Okay. But keep your head down and don’t go getting upset. And remember that as sad as it is, and as much as I don’t like horses being bought and sold for that reason, I’ve seen no evidence to suggest that they’re treated badly. It’s what you might call a necessary evil.’

  Poppy stood up straight and marched back out, determined to smile at the lovely horses being taken into the yards, to be a friendly face in the crowd before they were brought. And she hoped not to see the awful man’s hand going up and bidding on any of the horses coming through the yards.

  ‘Mark?’ she called out, spinning back around, her boots kicking up dust around her.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘How much does he pay? How cheap do they have to be?’

  ‘Under two hundred dollars, I think,’ he said, still frowning. ‘I’m so sorry, Pops. I should never have told you.’

  She nodded bravely and turned away.

  Please, don’t be under two hundred dollars, she thought, rushing back to the auction pen and peering over the fence.

  The hammer went down and the little grey horse reared in protest.

  Poppy’s heart was pounding so loud she was certain everyone around her could hear it. She glanced sideways, realising that no one else seemed to care what was going on. No one was bidding now, or at least not very often, and the meat man had already purchased three horses on her watch. The little grey horse was safe, but since then he’d bought an old mare, and two geldings that seemed to be lame. It had made Poppy want to scream at him, but she could see why no one else wanted them.

  ‘How’s it going, kiddo?’

  Mark slipped in beside her and she was about to answer him when a bay gelding came roaring into the yard. He was so dark he was almost black, with a white blaze like a paint smear down the front of his face. He had a torn halter, and he switched between cantering and trotting, nostrils flared as he bucked and kicked out towards the gate, before veering in the opposite direction.

  Poppy found herself holding her breath as she watched the magnificent animal parading himself around the pen.

  He reared, his front legs pawing wildly as if he was mid-fight with a stallion. She imagined him in a paddock, the wind blowing at his forelock and long mane instead of the big overhead fans.

  Just as she exhaled, the horse let out a whinny that sounded like a blood-curdling scream and she gripped the wooden rail in front of her, as excited as she was terrified. She’d never, ever seen a horse like him before. Why was he here? And why was such a beautiful creature being brought out at the end, with all the cheap horses?

  ‘He’s amazing,’ Poppy said to her uncle, unable to tear her eyes away.

  He cantered fast around the pen again and she shuddered when she realised that he wasn’t showing off: he was trying frantically to escape.

  ‘This is one of the horses that was off-loaded by truck into the cattle yards,’ Mark muttered. ‘Wild as wild could be.’

  Poppy glanced at him. ‘Wild?’

  He nodded. ‘As in brumby wild.’

  She’d thought he’d been talking about the horse’s nature, not that he was actually wild. When the bay gelding stopped, head held high, Poppy climbed up onto the wooden railings to see him better. He was breathtaking. She’d never had her breath stolen by a horse before, but she felt like she couldn’t even inhale as she stared into eyes so frantic she could see the whites, and his nostrils flared so wide she could see the red inside. He was so full of spirit that her heart broke to see how scared he was of the gathered crowd.

  ‘It’ll be a brave soul who takes this young brumby on!’ the auctioneer yelled out. ‘Who will give me two hundred dollars for this beautiful unbroken brumby?’

  Mark grunted beside her, but Poppy didn’t look at him. Her gaze travelled from the horse to the man she hated. She stared at him, waiting for him to put up his hand, but he didn’t.

  ‘No one? Then how about one hundred? Surely I can see one hundred.’

  Poppy gulped. The man still didn’t move, and she didn’t hear anyone else calling out around her. Her eyes dragged back to the horse. He was standing still now, sides heaving, blowing hard as he defiantly surveyed the crowd. He stamped at the ground and Poppy bit down hard on her lip.

  She was still staring at him, holding her breath, when from the corner of her eyes she saw Stan Parker’s hand move, saw it rise slowly from his pocket.

  No!

  ‘One hundred dollars!’ Poppy yelled before he could, thrusting her hand high in the air.

  ‘We’re underway! We have one hundred from the young lady to the side.’

  Poppy let out a big, shuddery breath and slowly glanced at her uncle. He was staring at her, one eyebrow raised in question.

  ‘One hundred and fifty,’ came the call across the yard. The wild gelding backed up and lashed out with his hooves at the gate again.

  She turned and met Stan’s gaze. He was smiling as he put his hand back into his pocket. Poppy gripped the fence until her knuckles burned white, swallowed down the terror in her throat.

  ‘Young lady, do I see two hundred?’

  Poppy blinked, turning around to face Mark. She knew he would be angry, but this horse – this amazing, magnificent, breathtaking horse – could not be culled for pet food!

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I shouldn’t have done that, but he’s so beautiful.’ She tried hard not to cry, but the tears streamed down her cheeks anyway.

  ‘Any more bids?’ said the auctioneer.

  ‘Do you have the money?’ Mark asked her.

  Poppy nodded. ‘I have –’ She cleared her throat. ‘I have one hundred and forty-nine dollars in my bank account.’

  She’d been broke ever since she’d helped to pay off the loan her aunt and uncle had taken out to purchase her pony Crystal, but she’d been doing lots of dog walking for her neighbours, and her mum gave her pocket money for helping around the house and babysitting her brother Tom.

  ‘Last and final call, otherwise this gelding will be sold for one hundred and fifty dollars.’

  ‘You really want him?’ Mark asked, looking over her head.

  Poppy knew he was staring at the man they were up against. She looked back at the gelding. He was standing still again, but this time he was staring at her, no longer kicking, no longer fighting. Just staring, his chocolate-brown eyes full of fear.

  She could do this. She could train him and love him and look after him, but only if Uncle Mark said it was okay. This horse needed a chance, he needed someone to believe in him, and she was going to be that person.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes!’

  ‘Two hundred!’ Mark called out.

  Poppy froze. That was the magic amount. The meat man wouldn’t pay more than that, Uncle Mark had said so himself.

  ‘Last and final call . . .’said the auctioneer. There was a long pause and Poppy thought her heart was going to beat straight out of her chest.

  Then the meat man frowned and turned away.

  The hammer smacked down and the gelding reared.

  ‘Sold! To the little lady and her father!’

  The brumby kicked and bucked as he was chased back out to the yards. Poppy stared after him.

  ‘You do realise your aunt is going to kill us when she finds out we bought a horse today. And a brumby at that!’ said Uncle Mark.

  Poppy threw her arms around her uncle. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much for helping me save him.’

&
nbsp; She liked that the auctioneer had thought he was her dad, too. She missed her dad every day, but if anyone was ever going to be her second dad, it would be Uncle Mark.

  ‘You know,’ he said, dropping a kiss into her hair before grabbing her hand and marching them both away from the ring. ‘We could have got away with buying a nice older pony for the riding school, but a wild brumby is going to be a bit harder to convince Sophie about.’

  Poppy pulled a face. ‘Maybe he won’t be so wild once he sees how nice we are to him?’

  Her uncle shook his head. ‘Wild is wild, Pops. This horse isn’t going to be easy, I promise you that.’

  ‘When do we pay for him?’ she asked.

  ‘Before we leave, plus I’ll have to organise transport,’ Uncle Mark replied. ‘But you owe me that one hundred and forty-nine dollars, okay? The rest can be a present for your birthday.’

  Poppy nodded deliriously and stared ahead as she saw the brumby canter through into the yards, calling out.

  She owned another horse.

  The thought sent shivers up and down her spine. She’d dreamed of having her own pony for years, and now she had Crystal and a wild brumby.

  ‘You want to go meet him?’ Uncle Mark asked.

  Poppy laughed. It was crazy. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I must have rocks in my head, letting you do this.’

  ‘We did this,’ she said with a giggle. ‘You’re in as much trouble as me. And you don’t have rocks in your head, you’re the best uncle ever.’

  He grinned. ‘Tell me that again.’

  She punched him in the arm. She was so excited she was about to burst.

  ‘Did you two buy the wild one?’

  Poppy laughed and spun around. ‘Yes!’

  The man addressing them was frowning and she leaned into Mark, suddenly worried.

  ‘Well, I hope you have a truck organised, because the only way you’re going to get that horse home is by loading him up the ramps onto a cattle truck.’

  Poppy gulped. A cattle truck?

  ‘He’s completely wild, isn’t he?’ Uncle Mark asked, rubbing at his chin with his thumb, something he did when he was worried.