Valerie Parv by Boss of Yarrakina

Author:Boss of Yarrakina [HR-2797, MB-2570] (v0.9) (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub

CHAPTER SIX

The ringing call of the currawongs and the raucous laugh of the kookaburras were the only sounds which disturbed the air for a while as they rode. After a few miles, during which she realised that the sure-footed horse could manage perfectly well without her constant attention, Joselin forced herself to relax. Gradually, her vice-like grip on the reins eased, and she began to enjoy the ride, although she was on the alert for the sense of panic to return.

It seemed unbelievable that she could actually be riding again, if not with her old assurance, at least without the terror she’d experienced on mounting.

Sonia slowed so that Joselin came abreast of her, ‘I thought you said you weren’t much of a rider.’

‘I said I’d given it up. I suppose it’s like riding a bicycle—once learned, never forgotten.’

Sonia snorted in disbelief. ‘Look, Joselin Pride, I’ve been a judge at our local shows and I know a good rider when I see one. I’d say you’re a lot better than good, although you’re on tenterhooks for some reason. Have you ever ridden professionally?’

Joselin lowered her head. ‘How do you mean?’

‘I mean in shows, things like that.'

Relief washed over Joselin. ‘No, I’ve never ridden in a show in my life.’ It was no lie. She’d ridden professionally as a stunt woman, of course, but never in shows.

‘Still, I get the feeling there’s more to you than meets the eye,’ Sonia observed. When Joselin gave this line of discussion no encouragement, she kicked her horse’s flanks and rode on, leaving Joselin to follow behind.

Why was Sonia so interested in her background? she wondered uneasily. Since she’d already made her position at Yarrakina quite clear, surely she didn’t regard Joselin as competition any longer? Sighing, Joselin dismissed the whole question from her mind and let her gaze wander idly over the magnificent scenery.

The Grampians were a world unto themselves, she thought as she had many times. It was said that sheep raised in the shadow of these ranges provided the finest wool in the world. Remembering the weighty fleeces she’d watched the wool classers handling during shearing, she could believe it. Every fibre was inches long and incredibly thick. She’d been told that one fleece could weigh ten pounds or more. She would like to be here at shearing time. Already the musters were underway to bring the animals in to the holding yards where they would be stripped of their fleeces and returned, thin and goatish, to the paddocks.

The shearers were always interesting characters. Soon they would arrive, singly or in teams, having worked their way down the tablelands starting with Queensland for the January clip, and ending up in Victoria for the spring shearing. She remembered only too well the controlled chaos that would follow; the unbelievable noise of shouting men, bleating shee’p and roaring machinery. Then, the station would be crowded and bustling, the shed paddocks brimming with sheep. It would be good to be a part of it all again. At the same time, she realised that she never would be.

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