Spirit.

Whisshhh... Thack! Whisshhh...Thack! Whisshhh... Thack!

Clouds darker than a desert storm gather on his ten year old face and he hurls another dry red clod of dirt at the garden shed. Whisshhh... Thack!

"Hey Kid! You wanna knock that off?"

His arm freezes mid throw and he sees the old bloke next door at the fence.

They watch each other silently for a moment then Jeff drops his arm and shrugs. He sits back down on the wooden steps and eyes the neighbour coldly.

"Theys at it again hey?"

He nods - doesn't trust his mouth just yet. The sound of a plate smashing and his mothers shrill voice punctuates the moment, "he's not your fucken kid you arsehole, you keep your fucken hands to yours..."

Whack! Skin hitting skin. Then a door slams and there's just sobs leaking from the cottage.

"He do that?"

Jeff shrugs again.

"No shame in earning a fat lip from an idiot mate."

"I hate him. Gunna kill him when I'm twelve."

"Thats a while to wait kid."

"Old Tom won't sell me a gun till I'm twelve he reckons."

The black man chuckles.

"Reckon you want to earn a few bob to put away for it?"

He looks up at his neighbour and despite the kindly grin, Jeff thinks he might be serious.

"Whatcha got in mind Mr Robertson."

"Well, got a new brumby in yes'dy, he's more a sorry sonabitch than what did that to you. Got me plate so full with tryin ta break the bugger had no time for other stuff. Got a lawn thats six foot tall and full of lost tribes of people I'm probably related to. Swear I saw some junjuddies in there yes'dy."

"What's a junjuddy?"

"Oh, he's a little black fella bout 3 foot tall. Steals mars bars and half empty beer when your not looking."

Jeff splits his half knit lip smilling at the mental picture.

"Gis a look at this lawn then Mr Robertson."

"Alright kid, you still got that hole in the fence?"

"How'd you know about that?"

Mr Robertson laughs to himself and Jeff shifts the boards near the garden shed and pops through the fence.
....................................


Sweat beads under his baseball cap and stings the corners of his eyes on it's way down his face. He can see the old bloke down in the roundyard. He's cursing and spitting at something that standing in under the pepperina tree's shade. A stock whip cracks over the noise of the mower and he stops mid stride.

"Heyup! Carn. Getup, getup fuck ya! Carn ya spangled peice of dog meat. Getup come on."

Time for a drink anyhow so he turns off the mower and treads slowly down towards the yards to see what the fuss is about. He can see Mr Robertson swinging his whip and going funny colours in the face like Jack does when he loses his mind.

"Hey Mr Robertson."

"It's fucken Alfie when your mothers out of earshot kid, how many times I gotta tell ya."

"Hows it goin?"

Jeffs education gets a little refresher in contemporary Australian adjectives and 'Alfie' finishes with, "bout fucken lunch time anyway."

He pokes his sand haired head in between the rails to get a look Mr Robertson going crook and his heart stops. In the shade of the pepperina stands a colt not much more than two years old and just taller than his balding black neighbour. It's not the black and white coat of it nor the sheer strength that shouts from the muscled rump of the young horse; it's the ice blue eyes that make Jeff freeze.

For that frozen moment they are his own eyes. Eyes looking at his step-dads raised fist.

.......................................


"You drink fourex lad?"

"Sorry Alfie?"

"Beer son, it's blistering bitches on their chains today and you been mowing since nine this morning. Don't reckon a beer would hurt to wash down that sandwich little mate."

"Dont know."

"Little shandy then won't hurt ya, got some lemonade back in there somewhere."

ACDC spills from his home next door and laughter tells him that Jack is back with beer and they are 'making up'. He can't get those blue eyes out of his head and wanders off down the yard with his honey sandwich to get another look.

He's leaning on the rails watching the colt in the corner snuffle and snort when Alfie hands him the drink.

"If I can break him to halter he'll be worth a mint on the circuit that one. Beautiful looking creature but I think his mum bred with a bloody bunyip. He's got the devil in his eyes that one. Stubborn prick he is."

The two stand there silently.

Jeff sucks up a breath after a bit and looks back at the lawn.

Alfie puts a hand on his shoulder, "tomorrow's as good as today to finish that job mate. You don't gotta go home to that noise though, if you've no mind to... Got a bloody playstation in there that's giving me more grief than that bloody horse at the moment. You can play it as long as you like if you can get it working."

"You got kids Mr R.. Alfie?"

"Yup probably do, just can't remember who their damn mothers are or what town the beggars are in. If you'd seen the girls I've known you'd think they are sisters of the bunyip that fathered that thing." He laughs and wanders back up the yard to sit on his squatters chair in the cool of the verandah.

....................................



"Where've you been all fucking day"

...Would have been preferable to the noise of mum and Jack 'making up'.

He lay in bed, hungry, mossies whining around his head and the ceiling fan ffoomp, ffoommp, ffoomp in circles.

The circles were blue with big black dots in them. Wild, afraid and intense.

.....................................


He tips cornflakes into a bowl and opens the fridge. No milk. Oh well. A sandwich. Umm. No butter. Umm...

It's an interesting texture. Crisp cornflakes... Fresh bread... Not terrible...

The board shifts easily against the warm morning air. His pyjamas snag on a bit of rusted nail.

He watches.

Imagines he can hear the colts heart quicken when he pokes his head through the rails. Goodoonk, goodoonk, goodoonk...

Imagines Jacks arm raised, fist clenched, face red...

Goodoonk, goodoonk, goodoonk...

So he holds the moment. Holds the colts wild blue eyes just like he holds Jacks, not backing down.

Goodoonk, goodoonk, goodoonk...

And eats his cornflake sandwich.

And the colt watches him back, fiercely.

"Watchya gonna do about pisspants?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

Jeff leans further in through the rails.

The colt stamps and snorts and backs a step.

"One night when your mothers drunk I'm gonna sneak in your room and flog you like you really need it you little shit."

"You bedwetting freak."

Goodoonk, goodoonk, goodoonk...

It rears and blows fierce wind into the morning.

"Yeah well Tom's gunna sell me a fourten when I'm twelve."

They watch each other intensely. Jeffs standing inside the rails now.

"Ha, a fourten, bwahahahaha... "

The colt turns away.

He takes a step.

The colt takes one backwards.

"whatever..."

He eats some more conflake sandwich.

"Yeah well fuck you..." Whack!!

The colt starts towards him. Fast. Jeffs heart thunders. It stops just three feet from him and rears.

"Didn't hurt. You can't hurt me anymore wanker."

The colt stands, nostrils flared and ears pinned back. It's wide blue eyes staring pure hate at Jeff. Or is it?

Jeff remembers his sandwich. His mouth open, half chewed cornflakes and bread on his tongue and one hand up with the sandwich in it.

"Well fuck you too."

He throws the sandwich in the dirt at the wild colts feet. Then takes one step... Forward.

The colts head for just one instant nods.

"Well fuck you Jack!"

He steps forward again staring hard at the colts blue wide eyes.

It steps back. Just one step. Then Jeff takes one more and one more and one more.

"You're not my dad Jack. My Dad was six foot tall."

Jeff straightens and stares hard into the colts pinned back ears. It edges along the rails.

"You know what that means?"

He takes another step forward. The colt breaks into a nervous trot.

"It will be my raised fist and YOU tucking your knees up in the corner!"

Jeff raises a clenched small fist and steps into the wild horse's circling run.

"My fist man, my fist."

And another step and another. Rage grips him, all the hollow empty lonely trees that whine outside his window of a night time curdle their way into some whirlywind frenzy and he's almost running at the colt. Then he sees it. Properly. It's frightened. It's him. He's Jack. Fuck.

Tears come.

...........................



Alfie watches quietly from the rails where he's been for the last twenty minutes. His heart isn't up to this. That bloody horse is wild. Jesus, if it hurts the kid...

He sees the small boy stop and suddenly sit on the ground. Wild heart torn sobs fall from the little bushy haired bloke and tears sting the dusty yard like the big drops of a summer storm.

God. What now. Whats it gonna do. Whats it gonna do. My whip... He goes to turn and sprint for the washhouse and the red whip but stops.

The colt stops running.

Alfie glances at the washhouse. He glances at the crying boy in the yard and the horse edging closer. Sweet Jesus...

The colt takes one step, it's head right down sniffing the weird metal smell of tears in dust. It takes another and props. It takes another and another and another until it's standing with its head just inches from the little fellas head.

Then it happens.

The wild unbroken colt nudges him.

Rubs his head on the boys back.

........................


"I'm sorry."

"It's Ok. We're both scared."

"Can I trust you?"

"Can I trust you?"

A still moment.

..............................


Alfie watches mesmerised as the boy stands and walks over to his long forgotten sandwich. The colt walks at his side, not inches off his shoulder.

And as they share the dusty crusts Alfie wipes a little ahem, sweat... from his eyes.