The Warrior Sheep Down Under (9 page)

The warriors huddled together, their bodies shaking, their heads spinning.

The man with the dog had gone. That was good. There was a man here in the ship but he didn't have a dog. That was even better.

And there were sheep.

One moment the Eppingham rare breeds had been watching their fairy godtingy sail away. The next they were trapped in a ship with a bunch of strangers.

“Guys. Do us a favor, will ya?” Stay down that end. You stink like a sheep-shearer's vest.”

It was a large ram speaking on behalf of the other twenty or so ovines. They were all backing away from the warriors, wrinkling their noses.

“No offense,” the ram added.

“None taken,” said Oxo, standing protectively in front of his own little flock.

He and the other warriors glanced around at the roomy, comfortable pen into which they'd been driven. Actually, it was all right. Better than their little hold on-board
Destiny
. Almost as nice as Ida's barn back in Eppingham. Except that the gate was securely locked. And the ship was now moving.

Oxo turned to the group of stranger sheep again. Apart from the ram, they'd moved as far as they could go against the bars at the far end of the pen.

“So, what's going on here, mate?” Oxo asked, eyeing the other large ram.

“Relocation,” said the ram. Then he added pointedly, “For the chosen few.”

“Ah…” said Sal. “That will be us. We are all rare breeds. We have often been chosen.”

The ram looked disbelievingly at her muddy fleece. “Nice to hear it,” he said, though he couldn't think what they might have been chosen for. “Us lot are Merinos, and…”

“Ohmygrass…” wailed Jaycey. “Are you
geysers
? Are you going to whoosh us up in the air any minute now?”

The ram blinked hard. “Erm…No, actually.”

Wills had wriggled forward and was standing beside Oxo. “Excuse me,” he said politely. “Relocation means moving to live somewhere else, doesn't it?”

“Right,” said the ram, relieved to hear a question that made sense. “Our owner in New Zealand has sold us to a farmer in Oz. On account of us Merinos having the finest wool in the world.”

“Not!” whispered Jaycey from the safety of Sal's side. “So
not
…”

But Sal was suddenly all aquiver. “Oz?” she gasped. “You mean…Australia?”

The ram backed away slightly. What had he said now? “Sure. Australia. What else?”

“I knew it…” Sal charged across the pen, flakes of gray mud flicking from her fleece, and planted a kiss on the ram's nose.

He was too surprised to move or speak.

“Totally fleeced up!” cried Sal as she ran back to the warriors. “See, all of you! We're on our way to Australia! Our fairy godtingy is
still
guiding us.”

Wills wasn't quite sure how she made that out, but what did it matter? They were certainly on a ship going in the right direction.

“High hooves…?” asked Sal, still quivering with excitement.

The warriors each raised a front hoof and clacked them together.

“High hooves!” they cried.

“Big shout out to the fairy godtingy, yo!” added Links.

The Chosen Few looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Crazy Brits,” muttered the large ram.

• • •

The journey took three days and in that time the Chosen Few and the warriors got to know each other better. Sal explained about Tuftella, the maiden in distress, and their mission to save her.

“Awesome,” the Chosen Few said when she'd finally finished. “That's, er…fantastic.” But as soon as she turned away they pulled “crazy Brit” faces at each other.

Jaycey had to admit that the Merino rams were rather handsome, so she hid herself away behind Sal, nibbling frantically at her fleece until she'd got rid of all the gray mud and most of the rotten-egg smell. Then she spent a lot of time polishing her hooves on the straw and fluttering her eyelashes.

• • •

Meanwhile, on-board
Destiny
, the only fluttering being done was by stomachs.
Destiny
was smaller than the cargo ship and it went up and down a lot more. Alice was very ill.

“This is always a rough crossing,” Skipper Ed told Deidre. He tried to sound sympathetic. Alice hadn't come out of her cabin for two days, which meant that for two days he hadn't been asked when they were going to arrive. Or been called Ted.

Deidre lurched onward with the bowl of thin soup and slice of dry toast she was taking to Alice. Shelly met her at the cabin door, but as she did so the boat suddenly pitched forward and they both had to grab the rail to stop themselves falling. The soup and toast disappeared over the side.

Shelly grinned at the empty-handed Deidre. “Oh, well,” she said. “What doesn't go down can't come up.”

Then the cabin door burst open. Alice was standing there, green-tinged and wobbling, but clutching an open laptop. To Shelly's and Deidre's astonishment, she smiled.

“I've just got my instructions for the test match,” she told them. “Rather unusual. And, of course…” she added, queasy but cheerful, “there won't be any
sheep
.”

Then the boat pitched again and she tumbled backward out of sight behind the slamming door.

• • •

The sea around Murkton wasn't at all rough. It was gray and still under a soft, autumn light. In her field above the harbor, Rose was studying a photograph of Ida's five rare breed sheep. It was getting harder and harder to fob Ida off with talk of wonky Skypes. It was time to take the bull by the horns. Or the sheep by the fleece. She looked up at the five very ordinary sheep standing in front of her. She'd borrowed them from a farmer friend.

“Right,” muttered Rose. “Let's get started.” She put down the photograph, picked up an aerosol can, and advanced on the sheep. “Nothing to be scared of,” she said. “This stuff's one hundred percent safe for use on humans
and
animals. And it says the color washes out after one shampoo. Or in your case, one shower of rain. Now. Who's going to be Jaycey?”

It was going to be an exciting day for Tod and Ida. A little plane had arrived very early at the landing strip near Barton's Billabong, and they were clambering aboard.

“Keep your Gran under control, mate,” called Frank, waving them off. “And say hello to Brisbane for me.”

• • •

The cargo ship was getting close to Brisbane too. Sal had almost finished working her way through the Songs of the Fleece. The Merinos weren't all that keen on her singing but they were politely impressed that she knew so many verses.

“I don't reckon we could manage one between us,” said the large ram, whose name was Burl.

“Don't worry about it, bro,” said Links. “Try this instead.” He tapped his hoof and started nodding.

“You's the Chosen Few from the Kiwi Land,

And that's a weird kinda bird, so we now understand.

But you's on the hoof to a new sheep station,

In what you speak of as a relocation.

Relocation to a land called Oz,

And that's real cool, and I'm tellin' you 'cause,

We's headin' there too and you's given us news,

About the bird called emu and the kangaroos.

And though we ain't quite sure what you's talkin' about,

You is A1 dudes, so let's give it a shout:

It's been cool to bleat yous…

It's been cool to bleat yous…

It's been cool, cool, cool…cool to bleat yous…”

The other warriors and the Chosen Few joined in, and they were still singing when the ship docked in Brisbane and they were all herded into a truck waiting for them at the quayside.

For one horrible moment, Wills thought the warriors were going to be sent back again, because the truck driver kept peering at a piece of paper and asking why there were twenty-five sheep when he was supposed to pick up only twenty.

“Not our problem,” his mate said impatiently. “It's down to the bloke in New Zealand. He's put a zero on the form when he should have put a five.”

“S'pose you're right,” said the driver. “Stick 'em on and let's go.”

The warriors scampered up the ramp after the Chosen Few. The tailgate was bolted behind them and they peered eagerly through the slatted sides of the truck as it made its way from the quayside. They were in Australia! Not that it looked much different from New Zealand yet.

The truck soon came to a halt. It had pulled off the main road. The driver and his mate weren't supposed to stop, but there was something on the radio they didn't want to miss a word of and the reception was suddenly good. They sat on the edge of their seats listening.

“And the tension mounts here at the Gabba…” drawled the radio commentator. “England, having won the toss, are seven for two and in all kinds of trouble…”

The two men in the truck cab sat even farther forward.

In the back, Wills turned to Burl. “Why've we stopped?” he asked.

“Dunno, mate,” said Burl. “Can we do your rapping thing one more time?”

So, the warriors and the Chosen Few joined together in singing their “Cool to Bleat Yous” rap again, tapping their hooves noisily on the floor as they sang.

“What's up with them?” the driver asked, glancing round. “Throw 'em some more feed, Brucy. Keep 'em quiet for a bit.”

His mate jumped down from the cab, opened the tailgate of the truck, and threw in a bucketful of feed nuts from a bin bolted to the side.

“Hush up, guys, will ya?” he said to the sheep, who were still singing. “We're listening to the match.”

“Ripper! Got him!”

Brucy heard the roar from the radio and the equally loud shout from the driver. He dropped the bucket and raced back to the cab. “What happened?” he demanded, scrambling back into his seat.

Wills blinked at the open tailgate and made a decision. He nudged Oxo.

“I think we should get out.”

“Out?” said Oxo, snaffling some of the nuts.

“While we've got the chance. We should go now and make our own way.”

“Our own way where?” asked Oxo, munching noisily.

“To the maiden in distress, of course.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” said Oxo. He raised his head and turned to the other warriors. “Time to ship out, sheep. Follow me.”

He leapt out and the other rare breeds swiftly followed.

“Good-bye,” called Sal to the Merinos.

“Good on ya…” called the Chosen Few. “And good luck…”

The warriors immediately found themselves caught up in a large crowd of hurrying people. They had little choice but to be carried along with the humans. Eventually they reached a broad open gateway in a high wall. From somewhere beyond the gateway, the sheep could hear a voice talking very loudly.

“Well, no more wickets,” the voice boomed. “But that's a maiden over.”

Sal stopped in her tracks, and the human right behind bumped into her bottom and had to walk round her. Sal had heard a human word she understood.

“Maiden…?” she cried. “Did it say maiden?”

Wills nodded. “Yes. Maiden over.”

“What,
knocked
over?” Oxo's chest expanded. “A maiden's being knocked over?”

“Tuftella…” breathed Sal.

“No. Hang on…hang on—” cried Wills.

But he was talking to four pairs of heels.

The sign above the gateway said,
WELCOME TO THE GABBA
, and underneath the sign the milling crowd of humans were showing their tickets and bustling through. Lines of attendants looked at the tickets and only the tickets. They didn't notice five sheep push and shove their way in between the hundreds of human knees and trot quickly up the stone steps to the top of the nearest grandstand.

Oxo couldn't see any maidens being knocked over. He could only see thousands of people, sitting in rows of seats one above the other. They were all looking down, their eyes glued to the vast patch of vivid green grass below. Oxo's tummy rumbled but he spoke sternly to himself. “Don't even think about it, mate. This is no time for grub.”

“So, where's tacky Tuftella?” Jaycey asked. “And why are those men in white running about?”

“They're playing cricket,” said Wills, who'd often watched it on television with Tod and Ida in the farmhouse kitchen. “That's what I've been trying to tell you. The man with the ball has to throw it at the man with the bat and he tries to hit it then run up and down past the other man with a bat. And if the bowler throws the ball six times and the two batsmen don't run up and down, you say it's a
maiden over
. D'you see…? A maiden…” His voice tailed away amid a great roar of laughter from the crowds around him. The men were still playing cricket but now there was another human running across the grass. A roundish, plum-haired woman in pale pink trousers and top.

Their fairy godtingy!

As the sheep stared, too surprised to move, security guards, in their brightly colored tabards, ran on to the grass after the fairy godtingy. One of them grabbed her arm and she stumbled and fell.

“Oops!” boomed the loudspeaker. “And another maiden over!”

The crowd laughed and groaned but Oxo was already charging down the steps.

“Five for the fairy godtingy!” he roared.

The other warriors hurtled after him. They leapt over the barrier at the bottom of the steps and raced across the grass. The guards had hauled Alice to her feet but a great shout from the crowd made them turn. Astonished, they let go of the pink playing field invader and tried to grab the sheep instead. The warriors scattered and the guards chased them round and round across the outfield, diving after them but never quite catching hold of anything woolly.

Alice gasped in disbelief, then stumbled on and threw herself at the nearest bemused batsman. She planted a kiss on his cheek. Challenge completed! Then two of the guards grasped her arms roughly and she was marched away. Confused by the chasing noisy humans, the sheep lost sight of her.

“Guys…time to ship out!” shouted Oxo, shaking off a guard who had grabbed his tail and racing for the edge of the outfield. The others raced with him.

• • •

In the grandstand, the crowd were loving the show. It was even better than three English batsmen already being out. Deidre's eyes were almost popping out of her head. Shelly nudged her.

“Did you get the picture? Did you get the picture?”

Deidre nodded slowly, still speechless.

And a few rows away, Tod and Ida were also staring dumbly as the sheep,
their
sheep, leapt over the barrier and disappeared, heading for the exit.

“Quick, Tod…!” Ida had finally found her voice. “After them!”