Read The Quicksand Pony for Free Online

and then if the cattle stampeded it wouldn’t be her fault. Soon Lorna appeared through the scrub, pushing a ragged group of steers towards them. The cattle bellowed out to each other. As the mobs mingled together, Biddy told her mother about the cattle spooking at Blue.
    â€˜They wouldn’t be spooking at him,’ she answered, crossing one leg over the pommel of her saddle and giving her horse, Dusky, a pat. ‘Phew! It’s hard work getting cattle out of those gullies. The scrub is so thick you wouldn’t know what was in there. But I love this mare. She’ll barge her way through anything.’
    â€˜If they’re not spooking at him,’ said Biddy, ‘what are they afraid of?’
    â€˜It must be something in that bush behind him, I guess.’
    â€˜Then why isn’t Blue spooking at it too?’ Biddy persisted.
    â€˜Mmmn,’ Mum thought for a while. ‘Perhaps it’s something he’s not afraid of.’
    Dad came into the clearing soon after with more cattle. His horse, Gordon, dripping with sweat, had foam on his neck where the reins had rubbed, and his nostrils flared red. He reminded Biddy of Grandpa’s bronze horse, all wet and shining.
    Some of the bullocks were huge, with long curved horns. They stared, wild-eyed, and made half charges at the horses before huddling together in the centre of the mob.
    â€˜The old man was right!’ Dad called to them. ‘These eight crazy ones were around the back of Mount Smoky. They’ve been there for two years by the look of their horns. Watch it, Biddy. If they come near you, get out of the way.’
    â€˜Yes, Bid, they could really hurt you,’ said Mum. ‘But they’ll be worth a fortune if we can get them to market. Well done, Dave.’
    It took the rest of the afternoon to drive the cattle back to the holding yards. The yards had been built a long time ago, by felling trees to form a barricade. Over the years drovers had added more and more branches to make a tangle of wood that even the wildest bullock couldn’t get through.
    Mum counted the mob into the yard. ‘One hundred and seventy-five,’ she told Biddy and Dad as they tied up the sliprails. ‘Counting that extra eight you got, there’s still thirty-three to find. Tomorrow morning we’ll go back to some of the places we left salt and see what we can pick up. We’ve done well, team.’
    Biddy couldn’t move. She sat on a patch of the softest, bright green moss, pushing it down with her fingers and watching it spring up again. A smooth granite boulder supported her back, and her woolly clothes and oilskin coat still kept her warm. Only her feet were cold, frozen in boots that had got wet early and never dried out. A yellow-breasted robin flitted down from the tea-tree, through the last rays of sun that made the wattles glow. It was a golden world.

    Long shadows ran across to where her parents were rubbing down the horses. She had started to groom Bella, but was so impatient and bad tempered with fatigue that her mother sent her to sit and rest. Dad would start a fire soon, and after tea they’d roll out their swags and sleep beside it. Even the wild cattle had settled in the yard, and the dogs slept, bone weary, beside the packhorse. They knew where their dinner was.
    â€˜You thieving mongrel! That rotten dog’s stolen our bacon!’ Biddy woke to her father’s angry shouts, and she felt cheesed-off too. She’d been really looking forward to eggs and bacon for breakfast. She didn’t think Top could have stolen anything, though. He’d been in her swag all night, but she wasn’t going to tell her mother that. Lorna would be very grumpy to know a flea-bag dog had slept in Biddy’s swag. She gave a kick to dislodge him, and hauled on his collar. ‘Sorry, mate, you’re in trouble. Better you than me, though. Thanks for being such a good foot-warmer.’
    Even