The Horse Who Bit a Bushranger

Cover The Horse Who Bit a Bushranger
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Genres: Fiction
On hot days like today, when the sun baked the hills and sent the air shimmering, you could sit on the stone floor and watch the honey drip from the comb into the barrel, smell the pots of strawberry jam and last winter’s marmalade, the preserved plums and pears, and the damp soil scents of potatoes in their sacks.
The dairy next to the storeroom was cool too, but in the dairy the cheeses stared at you as though to say ‘remember to turn me to let me drain’. Mattie Jane already spent too many ho
...urs working in the dairy, scooping off the almost solid yellow cream so that big sisters like Martha or Elizabeth or Mary Anne could churn the butter.
No one ever looked for Mattie Jane in the storeroom. When you were eight years old, a girl and the youngest of nine children there was always someone to give you a boring job, like knitting stockings or folding the washing. Only boys got interesting jobs, like fencing or rounding up the horses.
Boys got to ride the best horses too. Mama laughed when Mattie Jane complained, and said she’d get good horses when she was as old as her brothers.
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