Race Girl by Leigh Hutton Page B

door. ‘This is still my farm,’ he said. ‘I am your father. And I will be heard.’
    Tully gritted her teeth and stood up slowly, to find her father had already gone. ‘Easy, Dahls,’ she said, patting her filly’s bony shoulder. Tully fed her an apple slice from her pocket, then slipped out of the stall to retrieve a special mixture of morning feed for her new filly.
    As she stood watching Dahlia dig in, Tully was overcome by a heavy, dark cloud of emotion – of guilt and fear for her future. Her father had never spoken to her so sternly. It was like he was giving up on her. Tully had been left standing alone in a vast empty plain of decisions she had made, and she wasn’t sure she liked what her new found freedom had to offer anymore. The weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders and she hoped like crazy she’d be able to carry it. I guess this’s what growing up feels like . . . she thought, resting her chin on the cool metal of Dahlia’s stall. And I’m not sure I’m ready.
    Dahlia glanced up from her bucket, raising her nose to the brilliant sunrise. Her face was strong and curved with feminine lines and she had the cutest teacup nose Tully had ever seen. But the signs of her abuse and neglect were all too clear: her forelock was tangled and lifeless and her coat lacked the gleam of health and beauty that radiated through her sharp, smart eyes. Her jutting bones were especially apparent in the light of morning, and the cut on her rump looked angry and sore. Tully would find Bucko and ask to call the farrier and the vet, she decided, as the poor animal needed her feet and teeth done and injections for Hendra virus, worms, and anything else the vet deemed necessary.
    Dahlia flicked her tail at the flies, tossing her proud face in annoyance, before getting back to hoovering up the rest of her breakfast.
    Tully shoved her hands into her pockets, her chest suddenly constricting like a clenched fist as the emotion hit her – tears bursting hot and heavy down her face. Here I am feeling sorry for myself, she thought, squaring her shoulders and reaching forward to smooth the tangles and bits of dead grass out of Dahlia’s forelock. And she’s standing here, as strong as ever, after staring hell in the face . . .
    Shame on me.
    Tully sniffed once, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then moved briskly for the tack room to grab a halter and a wash bucket and to find Grace. She had a feeling she was going to need help washing this filly for the first time.

10
    Tim Tams and Phar Lap

    Tam’s mum Judy called that afternoon after hearing of the ‘great filly rescue’ – as it was apparently being referred to all over town – and insisted Tully spend Friday night at their place.
    Grace agreed to do the afternoon feed and even offered to do her correspondence vet nursing study outside Dahlia’s stall for a few hours that night. The paddocks were all ready for the new horses arriving – now on Monday – for spelling. Their arrival had been pushed back a few days by an ‘incredibly busy’ Mr. Barnes. Tully also made sure to ask Grace to do the morning feed of her horses, feed Bear and make sure her father had something decent for dinner.
    Judy’s gold RAV-4 was waiting front and centre in the Macca’s car park after Tully finished work. Tam,in her favourite embellished jeans with big silver buckle and cowgirl boots, groaned as she tried to crawl between the two front seats to get back to sit next to Tully, her boobs nearly popping free from her tight collared shirt. Tully laughed, slapped Tam on the butt. Tam screeched with laughter as Tully pulled her into the back.
    â€˜Thanks, babes,’ Tam said, sighing heavily as she settled herself next to Tully. ‘This is all so exciting!’
    â€˜Thanks so much for the invite, Mrs. T,’ Tully said.
    â€˜It’s been too long since we’ve had