The Kadaitcha Curse Page 4
“Hi, Millie.” Dad gets off his chair and the girl gives him a kiss on the cheek.
“Robbie, this is Millie. Mitch’s daughter.”
I didn’t think for a second that there would be any kids out here...
“Hi, Robbie.”
… let alone kids that looked like this.
“Hi.” I give her a slight nod and slump a bit further down in my chair trying not to look too much like the dorky city kid that I am. Wow, I think to myself, there are no girls like this at my school.
“Millie, how about you show Robbie around. I’m guessin’ he’s not too keen on talkin’ business.”
“Sure, dad. I could do that.” She flashes me a smile. “How about it, Robbie. Want to have a look around?”
I get up off my chair trying not to look overly interested.
“Keep an eye out for Angel, love. Wally couldn’t find her to tie her up.”
“Sure,” she says and skips down the stairs. I follow and make the mistake of looking at dad. He gives me a wink and flicks his eyebrows.
“Reckon we’ll start over this way.” Millie heads towards the first big shed. “This is where we keep the birds.”
“Birds? I thought this was a cattle station.”
“Not that kind of bird,” she laughs. She is pretty. Her white teeth shine out from a tanned face. Her ponytail swings hypnotically as she walks a couple of paces in front of me.
“Wow!” I don’t mean to say it out loud. I give myself a mental slap to the back of the head. Get a grip, Robbie!
“Pardon? Wow what?” asks Millie turning around to me.
“I said… um…” I stutter until I realize the shed would be more accurately described as a hanger. It houses three helicopters. Two small ones and one fairly big job.
“I said, wow, check these out.” I think it was a good save.
Millie gives me an amused look. Oh my god, I am a total loser. Thankfully she turns her attention to the helicopters.
“Those two are for mustering. That one’s for carrying the workers to and from the airstrip and for picking up visitors – like your dad when he comes here on business.”
Millie shows me some of the others buildings. The workers quarters look modern and comfortable. “Better than the motel we stayed in last night,” I concede. One smaller shed holds half a dozen quad bikes. “They look like fun.”
“We use them for mustering, checking fences, stuff like that.”
“So, where is everyone?”
There aren’t many workers around and Millie tells me that there is a big rodeo on in town, which I guess means at least a four or five hour drive away.
“They’ve all gone there for a few days. Cattle are out in the paddocks with plenty of grass. They mostly look after themselves. I’ll be heading to town myself in a couple of days.”
“So you like to watch the men ride?”
“Sure do, but that’s not why I’m going. I won a trophy for barrel racing last year. No one has won it twice in a row but I aim to change that.”
“Barrel racing?” I have a mental picture of Millie running behind a rolling barrel pushing it every few metres through to the finishing line.
“So they have events for people who can’t ride horses? That’s a good idea.”
“You really are from the city, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll introduce you to King.”
I decide not to ask any more questions. What was that the principal once said to us? Something like: It’s better to say nothing and have people think you’re an idiot than to open your mouth and confirm their suspicions. He thought it was such a clever line. And it was, so we all knew it wasn’t original.
There are several horses in the fenced paddock around the back of the helicopter hanger. Millie points out a smallish-looking black one with a large white mark on its face. She whistles and it trots over to us.
“King, meet Robbie.”
“He’s small for a king.” This is a statement of fact so I should be safe. I reach over the railing and he lets me stroke his soft muzzle.
“Quarter horse. He’s beautiful. And she could outrun, out manoeuvre any horse in the district, including all these big ones here.” Millie goes onto explain barrel racing. She makes it sound exciting. But I still can’t imagine her atop this horse racing loops around barrels at a thousand miles an hour.
“You don’t look like… I mean, you’re not very…”
“The horse is the one that needs the muscles. Look at his hind legs. For the rider it’s mostly in the technique,” she smiles. “And you have to work with your horse. You have to sort of become the one animal.”
She’s lost me. “Yeah, I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”
“No you shouldn’t. And sometimes the smallest present holds the biggest surprise. Would you like to ride him?”
“No way. I’m no good with animals. Had some goldfish once. It wasn’t my fault. No one bothered to tell me I wasn’t supposed to take them out for a walk!”
She chuckles. I know I’m making an impression. I just hope it’s a positive one. Millie looks me up and down in a way that makes me a bit uncomfortable. I try unsuccessfully not to blush. I am a lot taller than her but about the same age, I guess. I’m bigger than most kids in my grade, and even in the next grade for that matter.
“I bet you’re captain of the football team,” she says as we turn from King and walk towards the house.
Oh, no. That impression I thought I was making is about to become a huge hole. “Talk about judging a book by its cover. But you’re partly right.”
She tries to correct herself. “So you’re in the team but not the captain.”
“No, I am the captain, of the debating team.” She gives a look of astonishment. “And the chess club,” I add quickly in a ridiculous attempt to redeem some credibility. “I’m not really into football.”
“Cool,” she said. “Me neither.” That’s not the response I was expecting.
“But I’m not a complete nerd,” I add. “I can beat my youngest sister in an arm wrestle.”
“How old is she? Three?”
“Three! Who couldn’t beat a three-year old?” I feign an offended expression. “She’s almost five!” By this time we are in the big house.
“There are stacks of bedrooms. Some we don’t use because if the owners suddenly turn up they’ll expect somewhere to sleep. Although in the time we’ve lived here the owners have never dropped in. We are fairly remote, I guess. But your dad stays in one of the larger ones when he visits.”
I see a cabinet full of medals and shiny trophies.
“Who’s the champion?” I ask.
“They’re mine mostly.” She says it in a matter-of-fact way and not a bit boastfully. “There are a few of mum’s as well.”
“Which is the one you want to win again this year?”
“It’s up there.” She points casually to a large wooden shield mounted on the wall. Around the edge are about twenty small silver labels each engraved with the name of an annual winner. The most recently engraved one reads “Millicent Mitchell”. But it’s the large silver badge in the centre of the shield that impresses me the most: “National Junior Champion”.
“Wow!” I say. That seems to be my word of the day.
“Like I said, small parcels, big surprises. Let’s go.”
Millie leads the way outside. Was that my imagination or did her hand just brush against mine?
“Is your mother home?”
“She’s one of the rodeo organisers.”
“What about school?”
“School of the Air. It’s pretty cool. Mum and dad reckon they’re sending me off to boarding school next year. But I like it here. I still have time to change their minds.”
Suddenly she looks past me and her tone changes alarmingly.
“Angel! Stay!” I turn around to see a huge white dog about ten metres away staring at us. Its head is lowered and her ears folded back. If I have to gues
s I would say that it is a cross between a dingo and a wolf. But really, I’ve never seen a dog like it. All white-coated muscle. It starts moving towards me clearly unaffected by Millie’s urgent command.