The Horse Who Bit a Bushranger Read Free Page B

means gettin’ locked up in the barracks instead of out on a farm. It’s worse if you gets government work out in the bush. Aye, terrible bad that can be. Good luck, lad.’
    He strode across the gangplank.
    Billy peered through the too-bright light at the dock. Jem was shuffling between the two other convicts, dirty, pale, too weak to lift their feet up almost. Suddenly Jem looked back at Billy. ‘Remember!’ he mouthed. ‘Remember!’
    Billy nodded. He lifted his hand. They’d find each other somehow. They had to!
    His legs trembled, but he had to keep standing. Had to cling on to the one thing he now knew about how this place worked. Look strong. Get chosen by a farmer, so he weren’t locked up again. If he were locked up he wouldn’t be able to find Jem.
    Other men were on the deck now. They were dressed much like the first man, the same strange hats, the beards, and the boots. Were they foremen too? They walked up and down the rows of convicts, pointing to the biggest and strongest.
    None of them pointed at Billy. He tried to stand straight, but it were hard, after all those months below. An’ even back in London, he’d always been a small ‘un.
    A farm—a farm where there might be horses. A farm, with forest…or, what had Jem called it? bush around. There’d be a chance to escape on a farm. He could steal one o’ the horses easy, meet up with Jem.
    Someone had to choose him for farm work! He couldn’t face being locked up again. Not after the darkness of the ship, the rats in gaol, the memory of the workhouse stink…
    Suddenly desperate, he put out his hand and touched the arm of the man passing.
    Look them in the eye , Master Higgins had said. Flatties always think you’re tellin’ the truth if you look them in the eye. Sound respectful. Billy put everything he had into the plea. He looked up unblinking into the man’s brown eyes.
    ‘Please, sir. I’ll work hard, I promise I will.’
    The man turned. He was short—not much taller than Billy—but strong-looking, with grey hair brushed back neatly under his hat and a long grey moustache, but a clean-shaven chin. Good boots—you could tell a lot about a cove from his boots. These were made to fit, by the look of them, and well polished.
    ‘Will you?’ The voice was soft, considering. The dark eyes stared at him. Billy fought to keep from looking down. It was like this man could see into him. See who he really was.
    ‘Yes, sir.’ Billy tried to sound firm, sincere.
    ‘Let’s look at your teeth then.’
    Billy blinked, but opened his mouth obediently.
    The older man peered at Billy’s mouth. ‘Not bad. No point taking a lad who can’t chew meat and potatoes out into the bush. Had any experience with sheep?’
    For a moment he was going to say yes. By the time they found out the only thing he’d ever done with a sheep was to eat a bit in stew it would be too late tosend him back. How hard could it be to see to sheep? But somehow he couldn’t lie to this man.
    ‘No, sir.’
    The man smiled. Suddenly Billy knew that if he’d said yes he’d have walked on, leaving him there on the deck.
    ‘Any trade?’
    Billy met his eyes—met them easily now. ‘Not one that would be any use on a farm.’
    ‘You’re a town lad then?’
    Once there’d been fields around their cottage…Billy shut his mind to the memories. He’d done good in town, ha’n’t he? That’s who he were now. ‘Yes.’
    ‘A pity.’ The man’s voice was gentle. He began to walk away.
    Billy stared. He should have lied…he should have…He darted forward before any of the crew could stop him, and touched the man’s arm again. ‘Sir, I’m good with horses.’
    The man stopped. ‘Are you now?’
    ‘Yes.’ Billy grinned, suddenly confident. ‘I’m no groom, sir, I won’t tell you a lie. But people says I got good hands. Horses like me. I can quiet ‘em down.’
    ‘But you’ve never worked with them?’
    ‘Not so much as I’d like. But I can ride, and drive a