left her wondering just how old Harry was. Lawson was tall and fit-looking, but had the same unfortunate lumpy nose as his father.
Harry nodded to his son. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Busy as a cat burying its business,’ Lawson answered, letting it be known he wasn’t there for small talk. Without even noticing Jess, he turned to a large toolbox and began rummaging for the right tools. And then, with a pair of pincers and a rasp in one hand, he pointed to a concrete slab beside the stables and commanded, ‘Stand him over there.’
Charming as ever .
Jess did as she was told.
Without ceremony, Lawson got to work on the stallion’s feet, snipping off the clenches on the outer hoof and pulling the old steel shoes away. He fired up a gas furnace on the back of the truck and tossed a blank shoe into it. When it was glowing red hot he banged it into shape. Jess watched as he pressed the hot shoe to Biyanga’s foot, smoke billowing from the hoof’s horny outer rim. It left a black mark, indicating where it sat perfectly flush with the hoof.
Lawson nailed the shoes on, giving six perfectly timed taps of the hammer for each nail. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. He flipped the hammer in his hand and used the claws to twist off the protruding points, then stretched the horse’s leg forward and, resting it on his knee, bent the clenches over. All this he did in one fluid motion, moving from one step to the next in a series of effortless transitions.
The job was completed in silence. Lawson stopped only briefly with a curt ‘Should never pat another man’s dog, mate,’ when Jess gave his wriggly blue pup a scratch. He grabbed the pup by the scruff of the neck and tossed it back onto the truck.
As Lawson let the fourth neatly shod hoof fall back to the ground, he looked at Grunter, whose head was in a nearby feedbin. ‘That pig oughta be slaughtered by now,’ he said, as he unbuckled his chaps and threw his tools into a bucket. He strode towards Grunter, who snuffled about, oblivious to the danger coming towards him.
Lawson made a grab for his hind leg and the pig let out an indignant squeal. As quickly and as fluidly as he had shod the horse, Lawson straddled the animal and hogtied it. Jess watched in horror as he brought a knife out from his back pocket and flicked it open.
‘No, wait!’ she screamed, dropping Biyanga’s lead rope. ‘I don’t think . . . I mean . . . Harry!’ she yelled, in a panic.
Lawson laughed. ‘What’s the matter, never seen a pig’s throat cut before?’
‘I don’t think you’re supposed to do that,’ Jess stammered. ‘He . . . it . . . that’s Grunter. ’
Lawson roared with laughter. He looked down at the struggling pig and gave it a shove on the shoulder with his foot. ‘G’day, Grunter!’
From behind her, Harry spoke. ‘Crikey, Lawson, leave the poor kid alone!’ He glared at his son. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
Lawson wiped his hands on his jeans and took a step back. ‘Yeah, whatever,’ he sniffed, closing the knife and placing it back in his pocket. ‘Want me to do this pig for you or what? I’ve got some beef hanging in the coolroom at home. I can hang this one at the same time, if you want.’
‘Nah, I’m not gonna eat this one. He’s Biyanga’s stablemate now. He’s good to have along at the drafts. Keeps the stallion settled.’
Lawson dropped his shoulders and rolled his eyes in disbelief. ‘You’re joking, aren’t ya?’ he shook his head. ‘It’s because Ryan gave it to you, isn’t it? Now you think you can’t slaughter it.’
‘Give it a rest, Lawson. He’s your brother.’
‘He is not my brother. Just because you wanted to adopt him doesn’t mean I ever had to.’
‘Let the pig go, Lawson.’ Harry turned and walked away.
Lawson watched him walk back to the stables and then turned to Jess. ‘Go get the gate for me, kid,’ he said in a gruff voice. Only then did he seem to register who she was. He faltered very briefly,
Harry nodded to his son. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Busy as a cat burying its business,’ Lawson answered, letting it be known he wasn’t there for small talk. Without even noticing Jess, he turned to a large toolbox and began rummaging for the right tools. And then, with a pair of pincers and a rasp in one hand, he pointed to a concrete slab beside the stables and commanded, ‘Stand him over there.’
Charming as ever .
Jess did as she was told.
Without ceremony, Lawson got to work on the stallion’s feet, snipping off the clenches on the outer hoof and pulling the old steel shoes away. He fired up a gas furnace on the back of the truck and tossed a blank shoe into it. When it was glowing red hot he banged it into shape. Jess watched as he pressed the hot shoe to Biyanga’s foot, smoke billowing from the hoof’s horny outer rim. It left a black mark, indicating where it sat perfectly flush with the hoof.
Lawson nailed the shoes on, giving six perfectly timed taps of the hammer for each nail. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. He flipped the hammer in his hand and used the claws to twist off the protruding points, then stretched the horse’s leg forward and, resting it on his knee, bent the clenches over. All this he did in one fluid motion, moving from one step to the next in a series of effortless transitions.
The job was completed in silence. Lawson stopped only briefly with a curt ‘Should never pat another man’s dog, mate,’ when Jess gave his wriggly blue pup a scratch. He grabbed the pup by the scruff of the neck and tossed it back onto the truck.
As Lawson let the fourth neatly shod hoof fall back to the ground, he looked at Grunter, whose head was in a nearby feedbin. ‘That pig oughta be slaughtered by now,’ he said, as he unbuckled his chaps and threw his tools into a bucket. He strode towards Grunter, who snuffled about, oblivious to the danger coming towards him.
Lawson made a grab for his hind leg and the pig let out an indignant squeal. As quickly and as fluidly as he had shod the horse, Lawson straddled the animal and hogtied it. Jess watched in horror as he brought a knife out from his back pocket and flicked it open.
‘No, wait!’ she screamed, dropping Biyanga’s lead rope. ‘I don’t think . . . I mean . . . Harry!’ she yelled, in a panic.
Lawson laughed. ‘What’s the matter, never seen a pig’s throat cut before?’
‘I don’t think you’re supposed to do that,’ Jess stammered. ‘He . . . it . . . that’s Grunter. ’
Lawson roared with laughter. He looked down at the struggling pig and gave it a shove on the shoulder with his foot. ‘G’day, Grunter!’
From behind her, Harry spoke. ‘Crikey, Lawson, leave the poor kid alone!’ He glared at his son. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
Lawson wiped his hands on his jeans and took a step back. ‘Yeah, whatever,’ he sniffed, closing the knife and placing it back in his pocket. ‘Want me to do this pig for you or what? I’ve got some beef hanging in the coolroom at home. I can hang this one at the same time, if you want.’
‘Nah, I’m not gonna eat this one. He’s Biyanga’s stablemate now. He’s good to have along at the drafts. Keeps the stallion settled.’
Lawson dropped his shoulders and rolled his eyes in disbelief. ‘You’re joking, aren’t ya?’ he shook his head. ‘It’s because Ryan gave it to you, isn’t it? Now you think you can’t slaughter it.’
‘Give it a rest, Lawson. He’s your brother.’
‘He is not my brother. Just because you wanted to adopt him doesn’t mean I ever had to.’
‘Let the pig go, Lawson.’ Harry turned and walked away.
Lawson watched him walk back to the stables and then turned to Jess. ‘Go get the gate for me, kid,’ he said in a gruff voice. Only then did he seem to register who she was. He faltered very briefly,
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