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of their saddles that had been loaded in the back of Maggie’s bakkie , they tossed their heads in high spirits, sensing they were on their homeward journey.
    Joshua grinned at his daughter. It was hard to believe she was already twelve years old. With her pixie build, inherited from her mother, she looked about eight. Her ash-blonde hair, cut with a blunt fringe, was sticking up at all angles after their day spent at the district party at the Farmers’ Club. Her dungarees were striped denim and she wore a cotton shirt. Maggie had told him that although Tara still had no bosom, she’d put all her T-shirts at the back of her wardrobe and would only wear thick, button-up cotton shirts so no one could see that she was a late bloomer behind the other girls at school. Her huge dark blue eyes noticed everything,and were like windows into her soul. Sparkling mischievously, they radiated her humour, her love for life and her passion for horses.
    â€˜Do I have to stay behind the lead horses on the way home, or can I ride next to you, Dad?’ she asked as Apache automatically pushed his way forward to be nearer the lead, putting the mares and geldings behind him.
    â€˜Just keep Apache close to the front, honey,’ he said. ‘But don’t let him get too far ahead of us.’
    Tara patted Apache’s thick neck as he tossed his head.
    â€˜Bye, guys, see you soon,’ Gabe called as he aimed an old camera at them. Tara turned slightly in her saddle, waved and blew him a kiss. Gabe was the opposite of her in looks, and despite their age difference he was her best friend. His eyes were as green as bright emeralds, rimmed with thick lashes and heavy eyebrows. His thick sable-brown hair was cut short on the sides, and a little longer on the top, so that it seemed to fall like a horse’s mane to the side of his face. She smiled, thinking of him cooped up with her sister Dela and her mum in the front of the bakkie , until the intersection of theirs and the Victoria Falls Road, where he had to get out and drive back into Bulawayo with his dad.
    Her smile slipped from her face. She wasn’t too fond of Gabe’s dad. Once she had tickled Gabe when he was with them for a weekend, and he had winced away. She lifted his shirt, despite him telling her not to, and she had seen the biggest, blackest bruise on his side. When she asked what had happened, he told her he’d fallen down the stairs at home. But Gabe was swift and surefooted, and he would never have done that. So she kept asking, until eventually he told her that his dad had hurt him, and made her promise not to tell her parents, because if she did, then he wouldn’t be allowed to come to their house anymore. She had never told a soul. She would rather see a bruised Gabe than never see him at all. And she made him promise to try to keep out his father’s way. And he had – mostly. Soon after that he finished school and went away to university, but he still came home for holidays. Tara wished he came only to them and not to his parents’ house.
    Apache began to gain speed. Tara quickly brought her mind back to her horse and her hand back to her reins as the stallion followed her dad as he urged his horses into a trot, then a gentle canter as they left the farmers’ club behind and headed homewards.
    Dusk was just knitting its inky darkness over the African sky. The lengthening shadows had joined together and formed barriers of dark beneath the lowvelt bush. A quietness spread over the small riding party. Ahead of them, a big kudu bull leapt over the road, followed by another three. Their large twisted horns looked majestic as crowns as they nimbly negotiated their way into the thick bush on the other side of the road and disappeared from view, their grey coats and white stripes perfect camouflage, helping them to blend into the thorn trees. Dusty brown impala flicked their tails as they grazed along the shorter grass next to