Leap of Faith (4 page)

‘And how was your night?' Jessica asked. He still looked stressed. His brow was furrowed and there was a slight blue tinge under his eyes.

‘You know I never sleep well without you,' he said, pulling out of the car park.

‘Oh well, I'll be there tonight. Though you might not like this alien leg beside you,' she said lightly. He'd sounded a little evasive, but she didn't want to nag. If he had something to say he'd say it in his own time. She looked out the window, feeling like so much had changed and she was seeing the world from a different perspective. She turned back to Steve.

‘What?' he asked, when he caught her looking at him.

Did you happen to feed Beau?
‘Just thinking how lucky I am to have you,' she said, with a smile that was meant to be warm but ended up tight.

‘Are you okay?' she blurted after a moment of silence. She never had been good at waiting. ‘Has something happened, well, other than the obvious?'

Steve ran a hand through his hair. ‘Just didn't sleep well. Some bastard was out shooting in the middle of the night. They were pretty close because Laurel and Hardy were beside themselves. The poor calves must have been terrified. Beau was pretty uptight too – I was worried for a bit that he was going to go through the fence. And the cattle. I went out and had a look around, but by then they were well gone. I tossed Beau a bit of extra hay to settle him.' He glanced at her. ‘I hope that was okay. I know it's out of routine, but I figured with you out of action it wouldn't matter too much. He liked the attention and calmed down, and seemed none the worse for wear this morning when I fed him.'

‘Oh, great,' Jessica said, the words rushing out with a gasp of relief.

‘What, did you think I'd forget him?'

‘Well, you would've had a lot on your mind when you got home. And it was dark,' Jessica said.

‘That might be, but he certainly told me. Didn't let me get halfway to the house before he was bellowing that he needed feeding,' Steve said with a grin.

‘What did you give him?'

‘What do you mean, what did I give him? His usual evening feed and then his ration this morning. You've got it all clearly written up on the whiteboard. I might not be into horses, but I can follow simple instructions, you know,' he said, sounding miffed. ‘Sorry,' he added, patting her leg. ‘I'm tired. And I don't like the idea that someone's out shooting so close to our stock in the middle of the night.'

‘Did you call Tom at the station?'

‘Yeah. I put in a report, but there's nothing anyone can do without a licence plate or at least a description of the vehicle. They must have been right up the back – I could only see the odd flash of light. I thought of letting a shot off into the air, but Beau was scared enough. And it's such a bloody palaver getting the gun and bullets out these days.'

‘Do you think they were on our place?'

‘Not sure. I didn't really get a chance to have a good look. Tom is going to take a drive around this morning and we agreed it was best to keep it to one less set of tyre tracks. Sadly, I don't think it's as easy to match prints to vehicles as those
CSI
shows would have us believe.'

‘Maybe he'll find some shell casings.'

‘Maybe, but that'll only help if they catch them and get hold of the gun.'

With the cost of meat it was no wonder stock theft was on the rise. There had been reports a few districts over of farmers finding pools of blood and drag marks where someone had shot a hogget or two through the fence and carted them off. Cattle were a little harder to lift, but not impossible.

Even if no stock was injured or taken, the shooting still caused damage: it stirred up the animals. Steve and Jessica's meat was known for its tenderness. They had a reputation to uphold. That was no accident; along with choosing the best breeding stock, they kept their cattle quiet by being very careful about how they interacted with them, and making contact with them twice a day. And any farmer worth his salt knew the benefits of working with quiet stock. It was also why Steve preferred kelpies over blue heelers. Kelpies were gutsy enough to cope with cattle, but weren't as aggressive and nippy as blue heelers. Border collies were too timid and were best left to working with sheep. Steve and Jessica ran a small flock of sheep – only around five hundred ewes, and really only so all their eggs weren't in the one basket.

‘Do you want to call in and see Prince?' Steve asked.

‘No, thanks, I'd rather get my head together and then phone and see how the land lies.'

‘Fair enough.'

Jessica wasn't sure how she was going to look Prince in the eye after so badly letting him down yesterday, and wanted to put off seeing him as long as possible. This she couldn't tell Steve; it would probably sound ridiculous. Deep down Jessica knew horses weren't capable of such complex thought, but she still couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. How was she ever going to get over that?

‘He really is fine, you know,' Steve said. ‘Tash rang again. They've had a good look at him. He's just got a couple of scrapes down his back legs.'

Jessica nodded and fiddled with Steve's hat in her lap. Great, she'd have a physical reminder too.

‘So, are you in much pain?'

‘Not really. It actually feels more weird and heavy than painful,' she said, looking down at her purple plaster with slight surprise. She was overdue for another dose of Panadeine Forte. Hopefully she'd be able to hold off.

‘I meant to say earlier, what a nice colour,' Steve said, smirking.

‘I figured it was more practical than white or one of the paler colours. Apparently the fibreglass is much lighter to haul around than the old plaster type, though it still feels pretty heavy to me.'

As they turned into the driveway and made their way along the avenue of poplar trees flanking the gravel road, Jessica tried to think that nothing had changed and she was driving in just like any other day. Of course, everything
looked
the same – except Prince wasn't in sight – but nothing
felt
the same. It was really quite disconcerting. She looked around. She couldn't put her finger on it; couldn't put words to it even if she did want to say something to Steve. It was as if she'd been gone for months or was driving in for the first time ever. Jessica's head began to pulse with the confusion of it all.

‘Welcome home,' Steve said, with a sweep of a hand as he pulled up alongside the verandah.

‘Thanks.'

Beau neighed as if welcoming her and Laurel and Hardy stood wagging their bodies and tails and offering cheerful grins. It was as if they knew she was injured – normally they'd be clambering about beside the vehicle. She could only hope their respect and calm demeanour would continue and she wouldn't get her crutches tangled up in a flurry of boisterous dogs and end up sprawled on the ground with them on top of her trying to lick her to death. Oh well, she'd soon find out.

She opened the door.

‘No, wait, I'll give you a hand,' Steve instructed and leapt out of the driver's side. He rushed around to hold the door, pulling the crutches from behind her seat and setting them on the ground for her.

‘Thanks, I'll take it from here,' Jessica said when she had the crutches in position under her arms.

‘Okay, I'll put the ute away. You go in and get yourself settled on the couch with your leg up and I'll be in shortly to get you a cup of tea.'

Jessica took ages to get up the two steps and across the verandah, the dogs loitering at a respectful distance. She sensed Steve was sitting in the ute watching her, desperate to jump out and do something to help. But other than carrying her – which she was sure he'd do without complaint if asked – there was nothing he could do. And she had to get used to moving about on her own if she wasn't going to go mad or turn into a fat blob.

As she entered the house, Jessica had the same strange, disconnected feeling that everything and nothing had changed. Did she have a head injury after all?

Exhausted from dragging the extra weight of the cast and the effort of using crutches, Jessica practically threw herself onto the closest leather couch. She was surprised at how much effort just the short trip in from the ute had taken. But she didn't have time to dwell on it because Laurel and Hardy were suddenly on the couch and curling up beside her as if that was how things were normally done. It was not. To the best of her knowledge, the farm dogs had never so much as set foot in the house, let alone sat on a couch. They'd never shown any interest in coming inside before.

When Steve came in he stopped and did a double take at the dogs on the sofa. Jessica put her hands up in a gesture of helplessness.

‘I hope you two don't stink,' he said. ‘And don't think you're getting morning tea. Aren't they smelly?'

She was loath to have them taken away, but couldn't ignore the fact that the longer they sat there, the worse they smelt.

‘A bit; not of dead sheep, just farm dog,' she said.

‘Right, you two, if you want to stay inside, you'll have to be bathed. Sorry, but you're going to have to wait a bit for your cuppa,' he said to Jessica. At that moment, Beau neighed loudly. ‘Now
that
coming inside I will object to,' Steve said with a laugh. ‘Seriously, does he need me to do anything for him?' He nodded in the direction of the window.

‘Perhaps just open the gate and let him out into the bigger paddock,' Jessica said. Her words were light, even if her heart was anything but. Turning him out meant the loss of all the past months of hard work and progress. They'd been doing so well. For Jessica, it felt too much like giving in, like admitting defeat, even if it was beyond her control. ‘But there's no rush,' she added. ‘You sit and have a cuppa too.'

‘I think I'd better sort those two out first, if you can wait?'

‘Okay, no problem.'

‘Come here, you two, bath time.'

Jessica watched Steve go into the laundry with the two dogs following and then after the door was shut, she listened to him muttering, the running water, and the whine of protesting dogs. She smiled. Bless him. She really was lucky to have such a good husband.

She and Steve had run the farm together since getting married six and a half years ago. He was a well-established third-generation farmer and she appreciated his generosity in including her as he did; again, something plenty of other farmers didn't do. They were still as happy as the day they'd got married in front of a handful of friends and family under one of the sprawling gum trees down by the dam, with Laurel and Hardy, then just puppies, frolicking nearby. Actually, she was even happier. The romance and passion hadn't subsided as all her friends had warned it would; instead, she and Steve seemed to have settled into a harmonious existence where they fitted together so well they may as well have been pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. They were in no rush to begin a family, but it was something they definitely both wanted. Like pieces to a puzzle, they were different; had their own interests and minds. But when they were together, it was really quite magical. Sure, they'd had their fair share of conflict, but such was their mutual respect, they were good at resolving it or at least agreeing to disagree. Jessica knew it was early days – there was still the seven year itch to get out of the way – but for now she was content.

Her father had warned her against marrying someone outside of the horse world she'd been born into, saying no one else would understand the drive, discipline and commitment eventing required. Jessica didn't think she'd deliberately gone against Jeff Collins' advice, but she didn't think there was anything wrong with ‘outsiders'. It was probably good to have a more balanced life with someone who wasn't as obsessed with it all as her father.

Other than Steve and the farm, Jessica's life pretty much revolved around feeding, working and cleaning up after horses, and that's the way it had been for as long as she could remember. She liked her life just as it was. Well, she didn't really know anything else, so couldn't really compare, but she was happy.

The more Jessica thought about how her accident meant her life might change, the more she yearned for her promised cuppa and perhaps a piece of cake as a distraction. She usually did a big bake every few weeks so she could have individual portions on hand. Today she had a hankering for orange cake. And boy, did she need a soothing milky tea. She was meant to be resting with her leg elevated, but surely it wouldn't hurt to make a cup of tea – and one for Steve if she made a second trip. She could spend all day resting after that.

She stood up and got her crutches in position, but she soon knew there was no way she could carry a cup of tea without spilling it everywhere. The realisation that she wouldn't actually be able to carry anything except in a bag dangling from her teeth or in a backpack dawned on her. Damn it, she was completely bloody helpless! And her stupid leg was now hurting. And she was tired. She didn't even have the energy to get a piece of cake from the freezer and put it in the microwave. It was going to be a long six weeks.

Steve had gone out after lunch, this time to check the sheep, and was still out when their silver four-wheel-drive wagon and float made its way carefully up the driveway. A dual-cab ute followed close behind. Jessica checked her watch – Tash had called to say she'd return Prince at two o'clock and she was right on time.

She struggled up from the sofa, dislodging the dogs, and grabbed her crutches, before slowly making her way to the door. The dogs still seemed to understand they were to take care; there was no jostling for lead position from them, no mad rush to run ahead. They ambled slowly beside her.

Tash had her hand raised ready to knock when Jessica opened the door.

‘Oh, look at you, you poor thing,' she said. ‘How is it? Should you be up?'