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“SILENCE!” the lieutenant cried. “Alright. Now each one
of you have proved that you are good enough to be here,
and now you have to confirm that. Taking on a horse is a
valuable asset, and it’s a privilege, not a right.” He
scanned the crowd before him, resting his serious gaze
on various members of the Light Horse recruits.
“Listen up; I will now announce your horse for the whole
of your deployment here in Turkey. Astbury, Frank: you
get Clayton Cooee; Billman, Thomas: Redgum
Treasure...” He continued down the list until he
reached, “Markham, Anthony : Southern Star Drover.”
As each of the names were called, the recruits tramped
off to the stables. Anthony Markham walked down the
aisle, inhaling the sweet smell of horse and leather. He
had been raised working cattle on a station, and knew a
good horse when he saw one.
“Hello there... I’m gonna call ya Drover”, he said
quietly, reaching the right stall and peering inside. A
New South Waler gelding stood patiently. He was a
golden chestnut colour, his eyes a deep amber. The
Walers were known for their strong build and good
health, and their willingness to get the job done,
whatever needed doing, like the soldiers themselves. The
horse nickered softly to the stockman, who slowly
reached up to rub the horse’s face, dusty and sweaty
from the long trip at sea.
***
Five men laughed as they set up three barrels in a
triangle. “Y'know ya horse Anthony? He's heavy... I
reckon he's outta the competition. Me bet is that it’s
between the four of us.” “Ya haven’t seen Drover run
yet, it’s not over ‘til it’s over.” They set up a
barrel racing course, designed to test each horse’s
agility and speed. The first four men ran fast, clean
turns. It was Drover’s turn. Anthony tensed, then pushed
his horse into a gallop, rounded all three barrels
quickly shaving off a second here and there. He barely
even signalled to the horse, he knew what to do. As they
reached the finish line, Anthony grinned. Drover
snorted. They had beaten all the records, he was sure of
it. They flew through the finish flags, moving almost as
if they were one creature.
The four men were stunned into silence. “Hell, Anthony,
ya horse may have feet the size of dinner plates, but ‘e
sure can run!”
***
The lieutenant arrived in the stables the next day.
“Saddle up those horses, gentlemen, the first round has
just started.” Those few words created a sudden frenzy,
horses pawing, men running around with bridles, saddles,
loading rifles and checking bayonets.
The horses could sense the tension in the evening air.
The enemy was only metres away. Anthony absentmindedly
rubbed Drover on his neck. The horse was instantly
soothed, muscles uncoiling. The cavalry stood mounted,
lined up in position to fight. |
