Race Girl (29 page)

The slender bay nudged up the outside coming back home, the rest of the horses closing in. Tully grimaced at the thought of being passed. ‘
C'mon
, Xena,' she screamed into the wind. ‘
Go girl!
' She wished at that instant she was on Dahlia, with her perpetual engine and distance frame . . . Xena was losing her legs beneath Tully, the solid mare – a true sprinter unaccustomed to the harder going – possibly lacked a bit of condition, coming into the final lengths on fumes.

The sleek bay shoved against them. The rail scraped Tully's foot – a bolt of shock and pain lashed through her body, but she didn't ease up. Another horse pushed up behind them and Xena stepped awkwardly to the right – in a flash Tully saw the scene of her mother's death before her eyes. The way the horse's front legs had just crumpled, driving her mother head first into the track.

‘
Xena!
' Tully cried, pushing the memory away in her mind. ‘We can do this!'

The mare found her feet and with one huge final stride, they'd crossed the line half a length behind the sleek bay and a few more back from a flighty chestnut.

Tully squealed with delight to the calls of the crowd. ‘Third place is good for me, sweetheart!' she sang, showering Xena's neck with pats. The mare breathed hard, ears flicking forward as Tully brought her slowly down in pace, following the others round the track to the exit.

What a rush,
Tully thought, recalling every moment of the race, praising herself for not losing her head. She'd come a long way and being out here in the strength and rawness of the land had given her an added buzz. Put it all in perspective.

There's life, there's love, and then there's death,
Tully thought, casting her eyes across the Birdsville course and the thousands of revellers embracing the pure joy of the occasion.
We just need to grab life by the reins and enjoy the ride before it's too late . . .

Tully and Fia took a few minutes the next day to watch the Fashions on the Field, marvelling at the pretty outfits and proud entrants of all shapes and ages – everyone out having a ball. Then it was back to the ponies; Xena and Tully took the win in the 1000 metres, which earned Tully – as the jockey – a tidy five percent of the $7,475.00 prize money. She wished she had another ride for the day but was incredibly grateful for the cash, which she knew was going straight towards Dahlia's training fees and expenses.

Fia's colt was up next in the prestigious 1600m Birdsville Cup and Tully was thrilled to get to strap for him. The colt was out with a point to prove and galloped hard and early – a bit too early – losing the Cup by a grain of sand to a horse trained by a veteran of Birdsville.

But by the time the horses had been bathed, groomed, fed and put to bed in the stalls at a sprawling, nearby cattle station and the spectators, locals and jockeys alike had headed back to the big tent, pub or tent city to enjoy their final night in the outback, the rivalry on track had settled with the dust. A silver magic rose with the moon, casting its light down over Birdsville.

Tully sunk into the earth, cross-legged in front of the crackling fire. She breathed in the scent arising from plumes of smoke and sizzling logs, listening to the bench racing between Fia and a few bush trainers who had become fast friends. Fia's jackaroo friend appeared behind her, pecked her on the cheek and plonked his stockman's hat down on Tully's head. Tully grinned up at him, pulled the hat down gently, tucking her hair behind her ears. The rugged hat was loose, but Tully loved it; a perfect fit. She wished with a stab of yearning that Brandon could see her in it.

It was after a few cans of drink and ripping yarns from the jackaroo that a young jockey named Zack ambled over and sat down next to Tully, offering her a beer. Tully smiled, but shook her head, holding up her can of SOLO.

She nuzzled down behind her shirt collar and a soft pink scarf she'd found in her mother's chest of drawers, breathing in the rich scent of the wool and the fading floral note of her mother's perfume. Zack moved in close, chatting hurriedly about his rides, his trainer, the pace of the field. He was a cute boy, Tully decided, with dimpled cheeks and eager eyes. But he wasn't Brandon Weston.

Tully's heart ached as she imagined Brandon sliding in behind her, his lips meeting her skin, the heat of his body moulding to hers under this burning, twinkling, vast spread of stars.

It was at this moment, while on the grandest of adventures – when her life had finally started to align and she'd found the strength to be herself, striving towards her extraordinary dream – that Tully realised with a churning angst that part of her would always be hollow without Brandon Weston.

24

Done With Him

Tully did her best to keep her spirits high on the long trek home from Birdsville, to keep the positive energy she'd had on their time out there – an energy, she'd realised, had a lot to do with the hope of finding a potent enough distraction from Brandon Weston. She would never forget Xena, or the parties, or any detail about the greatest bush meet on the planet. But she still couldn't tear her mind away from the possibility of getting back in touch with him.

Tully knew Brandon didn't deserve to be forgiven; the way he'd treated her was inexcusable – she knew all that. But it didn't change the fact she needed him.

What?!
Tully thought with a sharp, sudden panic.
I don't
need
Brandon Weston! He's a total ass!

She searched for her phone in the side pocket of her bag, yanked it out. Still no service.
What I wouldn't
give
to call Tam right now,
Tully thought. The stories of Tam's escapades always got Tully laughing, pulled her back into reality.
You know, the reality where Brandon Weston is a dickhead, who broke my heart!

It's infatuation,
Tully told herself, gazing out across a brilliant yellow and tiger-orange outback sunrise.
A silly infatuation, and you let it get out of control . . .

Tully considered talking to Fia, but couldn't bring herself to spill the entire humiliating tale, not to someone she held in such high regard. The only person who could cure Tully of her infatuation was Brandon himself, she decided,
seeing him again, just one more time, will remind me why we can't be together.
Why he doesn't deserve to be with me . . .
That thought made her laugh out loud –
we
are
thinking like a cocky jockey now, aren't we?!

Tully chuckled and shook her head at the surprising surge of confidence, then struck up a conversation about the brave mare, Xena. She fell asleep in the passenger seat with her phone in her hands, ready to orchestrate a final meeting with Brandon Weston as soon as they were back in reception.

They stopped to fuel up at Windorah. Tully stayed in the car, sunk down low in her seat and searched for Brandon's name, then hit ‘Call'. She realised when it was ringing that it was still early, maybe too early to be calling a teenage boy.

She was considering hanging up when a woman's voice answered, ‘The person you are trying to reach is currently out of the service area . . .'
Oh,
Tully thought, chewing her bottom lip.
Right . . . Well, where is he, then?!

‘Got this for ya, chickie,' Fia said as she hopped back in, chucking Tully a pack of beef jerky and a mango iced tea.

‘Thanks, Aunt Fia,' Tully said. She ripped off the top of the bag, offered Fia some. Tully shoved a few pieces of the succulent jerky into her mouth, trying to focus on the juicy, meaty flavour, rather than all the possible places in the world Brandon could be right now.

She tried again a few hours later, but was greeted by the same automated voice on the other end of the line, so shot him a text:

Hi Brandon, just wondering how you are . . . Tully A.

Home again, and when days passed without a reply, Tully considered sending him a message on Facebook, but held back, not wanting to seem too desperate.

Why
am
I so desperate?!

Tully was thrilled for the distraction when she spotted the signs up for their local show the following weekend. She dragged Tam along to sideshow alley that Sunday to grab bags of fairy floss, have a go in the dodgem cars and ride the ferris wheel. The Beaudesert Show was the one community social event not linked with racing that her mum had always made time for, and Tully had always looked forward to it. They had even showed Frangipani in the Shetland classes, before her mum's career had become too demanding and even Sundays, a sacred day off in the racing world, had seemed consumed by emergency vet's visits, feed ordering and race planning, shop talking, and even the spelled horses needing attention.

Tully breathed in the nostalgic atmosphere, looking out across the historic show grounds from the top of the ferris wheel – the smell of sheep and cows and ponies, Dagwood Dogs and lollies. The sounds of squealing kids and squeaky rides in the bright twinkling sideshow alley.

Carneys called out to come play their games as the girls hopped off and hurried to catch the end of Izzie's show jumping round on her adorable paint mare, Cally. Afterwards they checked out the cattle, the pony trap race and the cute local boys in the wood chopping competition. They stayed with Izzie and her pony pals to watch the fireworks late into the night. Tully couldn't keep her mind from wandering to Brandon Weston.

She was grateful she'd had the day off as her life got hectic in the lead up to and during the spring races. She'd learned how to get her head in the game come race day, and used visualisation a lot before a race to make sure she was ready. She and Dahlia scored more wins for Mr. Barnes and a trainer from the Sunshine Coast even chucked a few rides Tully's way. It wasn't until Tully was back home for the holidays, loping around the windy warm up ring of a local Sunday rodeo on Jacko, that Brandon's name again came up in conversation.

‘
Brandon's
back, apparently,' Tam said from Elsa, cantering around the sand ring beside her. ‘Not just for the holidays, either. He's finished Year 12 and he's back for good, or so I hear.'

Tully gritted her teeth, but remained silent, urging Jacko forward.

‘Whoa!' Tam called, just catching up. ‘Don't wear him out before I get him in front of a barrel, Tulls!'

‘Sorry,' Tully said, bringing Jacko back down to a trot alongside the chutes and wooden rails where a row of cowboys in hats and chaps sat watching the barrel girls. One whistled at Tam, and she tipped her Stetson. ‘He just
really
gets my blood boiling,' Tully said.

‘He hasn't tried to call you, or anything—has he?'

‘
No!
Sorry . . .' Tully said, instantly ashamed at her snappish tone. ‘Not that I care.'

Tam raised her hands in surrender. ‘Totally understand, hon. Just wanted to give you the heads up, in case you run into him somewhere.'

‘Thanks, Tim Tam,' Tully said, smiling tightly. ‘Go kill it, girls.'

Tam grinned as she trotted Elsa to the entrance of the ring, to take her turn at the barrels.

So, he's back from Brissie. . .
Tully thought, circling Jacko into the swirling wind. Rain was finally forecast and the sky had been darkening for days, the summer heat intensifying.
And he
still
hasn't returned my calls, or messages . . . Well, screw him
, Tully told herself, pushing through the pain in her heart, riding hard into the advancing storm.
I'm done with him.

★

It was hardest for Tully not to call Brandon over Christmas and a part of her wondered if he'd get in touch on her birthday, but she tried not to let herself hope too much, or be too disappointed. Although, the thought of Brandon and Annalise together – no doubt laughing and flirting at her parents' annual party – did threaten to send Tully into a jealous rage. She stormed around her room until she noticed Bear cowering on her bed, and instantly felt guilty for scaring him.

No matter how many deep breaths she took, Tully couldn't force the hot, roiling anger down. She contemplated stalking them both on Facebook, or shredding the card he'd given her exactly one year before, that she still hadn't opened. But something stopped her – she just couldn't let go.