She kissed him goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t remember her tomorrow.

The stiff, sharp hair prickled against her face, and she breathed in the scent of his warm and dusty neck.

Ellen could hear the whine of the semi-trailer coming up from the main road, the juddering of gears as the driver negotiated the steep ascent to the hillside property.

Finder pulled gently on the lead and stretched his nose towards the tempting border of flowers along the driveway.

He wasn’t allowed to have grazing normally, but a few mouthfuls wouldn’t hurt before he left on the long trip north.

“Come on mate,” she said, rubbing his neck and shoulder and leading him further down the gravel towards the patch of grass she optimistically referred to as lawn on a good day.

The long summer had the grass struggling without extra watering that they couldn’t afford with Dale out of work.

Finder was the third horse to leave this month; their precious blood stock scaled back and plans to travel to events put on hold as the money ran short.

Every day that the furnace lay quiet and no smoke rose above the town was another day that Ellen had to find money for feed and the vet.

The farrier bills and the endless costs for the horses kept coming whether they were both working and whether the horses were going to competitions.

This one was the hardest; the one she said she’d never part with.

It’s easy to say that of course when you have two incomes and the steelworks is at full production.

It’s a lot harder with a bank balance of $9.28 and three days to pay day from her part time job.

In the end the offer was too good to refuse, or rather Ellen would have turned it down but for the $1200 electricity bill that couldn’t even be covered by a month of her wages.

She glanced towards the house, a modest bungalow on a decent block of land that had been their dream when they moved here after Dale won the job at the steelworks.

He was probably still in bed.

The shutdowns and fear of redundancy had sucked the joy from the man she had married.

Then came the drinking and the depression that even his beloved horses couldn’t pull him out of anymore.

It had been a long time since he heard anything Ellen said.

Her companion in the silence had been this horse, the horse she was about to put on a truck to Queensland and likely would never see again.

Unconcerned at his handler’s thoughts, Finder was intently finishing off what grass was hanging on and he started to edge her back towards the flowers.

She wondered if she even had the energy to care about the flowers that she and Dale had planted together in that first year.

The groan of the truck engine snapped her back to attention as it pulled into the turning area in front of the house.

Finder was interested but calm, his strong, steady body close to her as he watched the truck turn and park.

The two old mares in the paddock danced away with a snort: not for them a long trip to a new home.

Their age ruled them out of the market and fortunately, Ellen thought, they were both good doers and had few medical issues at this point, touch wood.

“Hi Trev,” she called, “he’s all ready for you.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever be taking this fellow,” the lanky young man replied as he dropped the side loading ramp and grabbed a halter and lead to switch with her.

There was a sudden weight in her chest and the reply stuck in her throat.

He saw her face and let it go.

“Right old mate, come on Finder,” he said as he took the lead.

“Wait,” she said, knotting her fingers in the mane brushing against her shoulder.

Trevor paused and stood quietly as she leaned against the horse who had been her friend and partner for nine years.

She knew he lived in the moment and tomorrow he would be busy with travel and exploring his feed bin, the little farm on the hill a fading memory.

Ellen hoped the years of patient training and the confidence he had built over time would help him with his new owner.

The horse walked quickly and easily up the ramp and stood quietly as the truck ramp was closed.

The mares called from the paddock, but he was already intent on his hay net, thoughts of what he was leaving behind far from his mind.

Trevor put one hand on her shoulder as he turned to swing up into the cab.

“Take care of yourself Ellen,” he said.

Then they were gone.

She sunk down onto the gravel of the driveway, the sharp stones biting her through layers of denim, but she barely felt them.

The world was muffled, the mares’ hoof falls as they left the fence, the twitter of small birds and the far away shush of the river underneath the sound of the truck engine as it navigated back down the road.

For the first time in months, she let herself sob until there were no tears left and all that remained was a burning pain in her throat.

She scrambled up, not bothering to brush off jeans or hands.

Dale was standing in the doorway of the house, slumped against the frame.

Ellen knew she should go to him, knew she should keep trying to bridge the gulf that had opened between them, but she felt hollowed out and shell-like.

So, she walked instead to the edge of the driveway where if you stood in just the right place you could see traffic leave the hill road and cross onto the main highway.

She watched her best friend leave.

Back when she and Dale were first married, she would stand here in this spot waiting to see his ute turn onto the hill road when he came home from work.

Now he didn’t leave, didn’t return home with takeaway from town, a bunch of flowers for her and a bag of carrots for their horses.

Maybe it was too late for them.

Maybe cutting her heart out by selling Finder wouldn’t save them.

Maybe it would.