Home to Hope Mountain. Joan Kilby
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girl and would happily have her help exercise the horses. But how did she ask when she’d turned down Adam’s request so brusquely?
“All right, big fella. You’ll do,” she said, giving Major a scratch behind his golden ears. She exchanged his bridle for a halter and put him back in the paddock with the others.
Carrying the saddle over one arm, Hayley headed back to the garage, Shane at her heels. As she went through the door her phone rang. She placed the saddle on its wooden peg and pulled her phone out of her breast pocket, hoping the caller wouldn’t be her friend Jacinta or her mother or anyone who wanted a long chat. She barely had time for a quick lunch before her therapy session with Dave, a retired man in his sixties.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hayley, hi.” It was Ian Young, the director of the Horses for Hope program. Based in Shepparton, he coordinated the funding for her and two other horse therapists in the state.
“Hey, Ian.” She dropped the saddle next to the door and shrugged out of her jacket. “I hope you’re not calling because you have another rescue horse for me. I can barely afford to feed the ones I’ve got.”
She was only joking, as Ian well knew. If another horse needed saving she would be the first to put her hand up. However, she was down to her last ten bales of timothy and didn’t have a clue where the next lot was coming from. She probably shouldn’t have been too proud to take Adam’s offer of grazing. If it had been anyone else she would have jumped at it.
“No, it’s not another rescue horse. But how’s Bo doing?” Ian sounded down and distracted, unlike his usual upbeat self.
“Excellent. The mange has cleared up and his new coat is coming in nice and glossy. Drop in next time you’re up this way. Are you coming to the bushfire memorial next month?”
“I’ll be there.” His parents had lost their home and Ian had lost a good friend. The bushfires had touched so many lives. Everyone had lost someone, it seemed, or knew someone who had. “Hayley,” he began haltingly, “I’m sorry, but...”
“What?” A chill settled over her shoulders. Instinctively she knew he was no longer talking about the memorial service.
He cleared his throat. “The program is finished.”
“I beg your pardon?” She walked over to the couch and sank onto a lumpy cushion.
“The government cut our funding.”
For about two seconds she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Then she got to her feet but she didn’t know where to go. “In the middle of the program? They can’t do that.”
“They did. Nearly a year has passed. People have forgotten. The state wants the money for something else, a new highway or a railway crossing. Who knows?” Ian sounded defeated.
“What about my clients? What am I going to tell them? These people need help.”
“They can still access social services for counseling.”
“They’ll be shunted onto a waiting list.” Needing air, she opened the door and wrapped an arm around her waist against the chill. “If they can see a regular therapist why can’t they see a horse therapist?”
“You know what it’s like, Hayley. The bean counters move their columns of numbers from one ledger sheet to another and suddenly they’re able to balance the budget even though no more money has come into the coffers. It’s sleight of hand.”
“But why pick on Horses for Hope?”
“According to the official letter I got it’s been deemed ‘nonessential.’”
“Nonessential?” Hayley repeated forcefully. “Tell that to Dave Green, who suffers survivor’s guilt because he couldn’t save his wife and granddaughter. Working with Bo has given him a reason to go on living.” Hayley went outside to pace the muddy yard ringed by the charred skeletons of trees. “Or Samantha, who spent six hours huddled in her car while the forest blazed around her. Her anxiety attacks make it impossible for her to work.”
“Hayley, calm down,” Ian said. “You don’t need to convince me of the program’s importance.”
“Who do I talk to in the government to restore funding? Tell me and I’ll be down there in Melbourne tomorrow on the steps of Parliament.”
“It won’t do any good. I’ve talked to them all. There’s simply no money left.”
“Are there any other agencies that might fund the program? I could get testimonials from my clients.”
“I’m pursuing other options. So far nothing has panned out. I’ll keep you updated.”
“So how long can I continue before I have to pull the plug? Next week, the week after?” Ian didn’t reply and his silence told the story. “Oh, you’re kidding me. Right away?”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “We’ve been operating in the red for the past month, waiting for the next check. Now we find out it’s not coming. You need to call your clients now, today, and let them know there won’t be any more sessions.”
Hayley tried to catch her breath around the tightness in her chest. As well as her concern for her clients, there was the impact on her. Her primary livelihood was over as of this minute. Trail rides were few and far between, partly because it was too early in the season and partly because so many of the trails had been burned out.
And then there were her horses to think about. What would happen if she couldn’t afford to feed them? If she had to sell one or two, which would she choose? She loved them all. Asha was her own special horse, though she couldn’t ride her without difficulty. But how could she get rid of her when she’d been through so much? And Bo and Blaze, Sergeant and Major. All were so dear to her.
“I have to go,” Ian said heavily. “I’ve still got a few phone calls to make.”
Hayley said goodbye. She needed to call Dave. He was due here in half an hour. She couldn’t make herself do it, couldn’t bear to hear the sound of his disappointment.
Listlessly she picked up her mail. There was a notice from the electric company, warning if she didn’t pay her bill within two days she’d be cut off. Wonderful. The icing on the cake.
She glanced at the clock. She couldn’t put this call off any longer. Feeling sick in her heart, she reached for the phone and dialed. “Hey, Dave.”
“Not late, am I?” he said gruffly. “I was just about to head out to your place.”
Hayley pressed the phone to her chest and tried to pull in enough breath to continue.
“Hayley, you there?”
“I’m afraid I have bad news....”
* * *
ADAM DROPPED SUMMER off at school and continued on toward the main street shopping district, passing empty blackened lots interspersed with intact houses. He slowed as he passed a charred sign reading Hope Mountain Community Center. In the cleared area a large tent had been erected where donated goods were being redistributed.
He drove on, ruminating over how huge the loss of the community center was to a small town. His grandparents had relied on theirs as a hub of local social life. His grandmother in particular had spent a lot of time there with the Country Women’s Association.
His phone rang as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot. He glanced at the caller ID. Diane, finally. “I see you got my messages. Thanks for calling back.”
“Sorry I’ve taken so long,” Diane said, sounding harried. “I’m at the hospital day and night.”
“How’s your mother doing?”
“Not great. They’re trying to stabilize her blood pressure and sugar levels before they operate. It’s now going to be a quadruple bypass rather