Page 5 of Wild Horses

The corridor outside the Children’s Court was lined with timber benches.

Anxious parents, relatives and social workers sat beside sullen teens.

The air of solemnity weighed heavily on Tyler as he and his son, Leo, entered the courtroom.

The walls, a muted beige, reflected the oppressive atmosphere of the space.

A tense silence ruled, broken only by the occasional sniffle or shuffle of feet on the wooden floor.

At the front of the room stood the magistrate’s bench on a raised stage.

Tyler’s gaze locked on to Leo, standing before the court and shuffling his feet.

Having just turned sixteen, the boy was tall and lanky, his limbs like those of an awkward, gangling colt.

Dark hair fell into intense eyes, as green as Tyler’s own, and his chiselled jawline hinted at the man he would become.

Leo’s slender shoulders squared, and his eyes flashed as they met Tyler’s.

The defiance in his posture and the rebellious tilt of his chin sent a shudder down Tyler’s spine.

His son could so often be his own worst enemy.

Tyler’s gaze shifted from Leo to the woman who strode confidently into the courtroom, her high heels clicking against the polished floorboards.

Veronica Fisher, a top barrister he’d hired to represent his son, exuded an air of authority and determination.

Her tailored black suit hugged her slender frame, and her brown hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail.

As she approached the defence table, Tyler noticed the way her hazel eyes seemed to take in every detail of the room, assessing and calculating.

‘I’ll be appearing for Leo Ward in this sentencing hearing, your honour. ’

Magistrate Barnard nodded.

‘State your name,’ the court clerk instructed.

‘Leo Ward.’

‘Leo,’ Magistrate Barnard began, addressing the boy sternly, ‘your guilty plea does you credit, but this is not the first time you’ve stood before this court.

I must express my disappointment at your repeated offences.

’ He leaned forwards slightly, his brow furrowed.

‘You are young and have your whole life ahead of you. But if you continue down this path, I fear your future will be filled with hardship and regret.’

Leo’s jaw tightened and he glared at the magistrate. ‘I didn’t ask for your opinion,’ he muttered beneath his breath, but in the hushed courtroom his words echoed for all to hear.

Tyler flinched. Thank goodness reporters weren’t allowed into Children’s Court hearings or to publish any details of them. The press would lap this up.

‘Regardless of whether you asked for it or not, Leo, it is my duty to provide guidance and to help you understand the cause and effect of your actions,’ Magistrate Barnard replied, his tone firm yet empathetic. ‘What do you have to say for yourself, young man?’

‘Your honour,’ Leo said more respectfully, ‘I get it, okay? I messed up. But sending me to some youth detention centre won’t help. It’s just going to make things worse.’

‘Perhaps,’ the magistrate conceded, ‘but I must also consider the safety and well-being of the community. This time you sold drugs, albeit a minimal amount. Your actions have consequences, Leo, and you must face them.’

Leo scowled. ‘Maybe if someone cared enough to stop me, I wouldn’t be here.’

The words pierced Tyler’s heart. Hadn’t he tried, in his own clumsy way, to connect with his son?

Late-night talks that ended in frustration, attempts at advice that came out as criticism.

Tyler was a man of action; he showed love by solving problems, not speaking about feelings.

But Leo needed more, and Tyler didn’t know how to give it.

‘I know you’re struggling,’ the magistrate said to Leo, his tone softening. ‘And I want to help you, son, but you’re running out of chances.’

Some of the fight drained from Leo’s stance.

Veronica cleared her throat. ‘Your honour,’ she began, ‘I acknowledge the increasing severity of my client’s offences, but I believe there is an alternative to incarceration that could benefit both Leo and the community.’

Magistrate Barnard raised an eyebrow. ‘And what might that be, Ms Fisher?’

‘Currawong Creek,’ she replied without hesitation, her voice firm and unwavering.

‘A residential equine therapy centre combined with a mainstream academic program that’s having great success in rehabilitating troubled youths.

I propose that Leo attend this program instead of being sent to youth detention. ’

‘Ms Fisher, what makes you think that horse therapy will have any impact on Leo?’

‘Your honour,’ said Veronica, her gaze never faltering, ‘multiple studies have shown that equine therapy can be incredibly effective in teaching responsibility, empathy and self-awareness. Currawong Creek provides a safe and supportive environment where young people can confront their issues and work through them with the guidance of professional therapists.’

Tyler’s heart pounded in his chest as he listened to Veronica passionately arguing on Leo’s behalf.

She’d not previously run this option by him.

His mind raced with questions, but anything was better than incarceration.

Would the magistrate agree? Could Currawong Creek truly help his son?

And, most importantly, could this be a chance for him to finally connect with Leo and repair their fractured relationship?

His heart ached with concern and love for the boy who’d grown up too fast.

The courtroom seemed to hold its breath as Magistrate Barnard contemplated Veronica’s words, his expression unreadable. Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as the seconds ticked by, the suspense of the looming decision almost unbearable.

‘Your honour,’ said Leo, ‘playing around with horses won’t fix me. Just send me to detention already.’

‘Leo, please.’ Tyler jumped to his feet, unable to stay silent. ‘This could be your chance to turn things around.’

‘Since when do you care?’ Leo shot back, his voice cold and bitter. ‘It’s a bit late for all this fatherly concern, don’t you think?’

‘Sit down, Mr Ward,’ Magistrate Barnard interjected firmly, silencing the brewing argument with a stern look.

‘I understand this is a difficult situation for everyone involved, and we must consider all options before making a decision. However, if Leo is staunchly opposed to this therapy, I can’t see it doing him any good. ’

Veronica checked her notes. ‘Your honour, Currawong Creek is run by a mutual acquaintance of ours – Clare Mitchell, although she goes by her married name now of Clare Lord.’

Magistrate Barnard peered over the top of his glasses.

‘Good heavens. It was a great shame when Ms Mitchell gave up the law. A very great shame. But I know of her move into child and adolescent counselling through equine therapy and have heard great things about her new direction. This Currawong Creek is her place then?’

‘Indeed, your honour.’

‘Well, this puts a different complexion on the matter. If anyone can work miracles on our rebellious youth it is Clare Mitchell.’ He sucked thoughtfully on one arm of his spectacles, then put them back on. ‘Would this young man have a guaranteed place? I’ve heard her program has a waiting list.’

‘Clare and I are old colleagues and good friends.’

‘Aah ... I see how it is,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Nice to know that nepotism isn’t dead.’

‘Try it, Leo,’ Tyler urged, clutching the back of the seat in front of him with white-knuckled hands. ‘Please, just try it.’

For a moment, the defiance in Leo’s eyes flickered and wavered, replaced by something else – vulnerability, perhaps, or uncertainty. It was fleeting, but it gave Tyler hope that maybe, just maybe, his son might be willing to take a chance.

Magistrate Barnard leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, steepling his fingers.

His shrewd eyes studied Leo, taking in the boy’s defiant posture and hardened expression.

After a weighted pause, he spoke. ‘Ms Fisher, I’m willing to consider this alternative, but I must be convinced that both Leo and his father will lean in to it.

What’s your final answer, Leo? Do you agree to attend this equine therapy program instead of receiving a custodial sentence? ’

Leo mumbled something, the fight going from his eyes. He suddenly looked about ten years old.

‘Speak up, son.’

‘All right,’ said Leo. ‘I’ll go.’

Tyler let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Veronica turned to give him an encouraging smile. There was still hope for his son. Still a chance to bring him back from the brink.

‘Very well,’ said the magistrate. ‘Leo Ward, I sentence you to twelve months’ probation, providing you attend Currawong Creek for as long as the counsellors there advise.

You will live onsite, attending therapy and participating fully in the academic program.

Failure to comply will result in immediate detention. ’

Tyler’s gaze found the judge’s and he nodded his head in silent appreciation.

‘Mr Ward,’ said Magistrate Barnard in a tone of firm expectation, ‘I trust you understand the significance of this opportunity and will provide your son with the necessary support during his time at Currawong Creek.’

‘Absolutely, your honour,’ said Tyler, his voice steady and resolute. ‘I’ll be there for him every step of the way.’

The judge nodded approval, a genuine concern for Leo’s future shining through his stern facade. He lifted his gavel to signal the close of the hearing. ‘This court is adjourned.’

As the room began to empty, Tyler turned to Veronica. ‘Thank you.’ He shook her hand. ‘I don’t know what Leo and I would have done without you.’

‘It’s been a pleasure to represent your son,’ she replied, her eyes reflecting understanding and empathy. ‘But the hard work is just beginning. It’s up to both of you to make the most of this.’

With a nod, Tyler squared his shoulders. For now, there was hope – a hope that he would nurture and guard with everything in him.

Tyler watched Leo as the boy stood and turned around.

The insolence and anger that had been so evident earlier had given way to a familiar surly resting face.

It was clear he wasn’t embracing the idea of Currawong Creek wholeheartedly, but rather accepting it as the lesser of two evils. Still, for now it felt like a victory.

As if sensing his father’s scrutiny, Leo looked directly at him.

The moment their eyes met, a thousand unspoken words passed between them.

Tyler yearned to embrace his hurting boy, but something held him back – an invisible barrier built from missed moments and memories never made.

Instead, Tyler approached him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Leo jerked away, eyes flashing. ‘Don’t pretend you care. You’re just glad I’ll be out of your hair.’

The words stung, but Tyler understood Leo’s anger. ‘I haven’t been there for you like I should have, but I’m here now. Maybe this Currawong Creek place can really help.’

‘Whatever.’ Leo carried his resentment like a shield. ‘It’s not like I have a choice. The judge decided for me.’

Tyler’s heart ached at the distance between them. ‘Just give it a chance. A fresh start could be just what you need.’

‘I don’t need your advice,’ Leo snapped. ‘I never asked you to step in and try to fix me.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I’ll go to your stupid horse camp if it keeps me out of juvie. But don’t pretend I’m going to magically change.’

Tyler tried again, swallowing the lump in his throat. ‘I’m taking some time off work. I’ll be there with you when you start at Currawong Creek.’

‘You don’t need to come, Dad. Just drop me off and go back to your perfect life.’

‘Leo, please,’ Tyler said, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘Let me try.’

For a moment it seemed as though Leo might relent – the hard lines of his face softening ever so slightly as he considered his father’s words. But then, with a shake of his head, he straightened his shoulders and stiffened.

‘Fine,’ he said, his voice cold and distant. ‘Suit yourself. Just don’t expect me to suddenly start playing Happy Families.’

Tyler’s hand trembled as he watched his son’s retreating back. At least they wouldn’t have to run the usual press gauntlet on their way to the car. It was prohibited to publish the names of juveniles involved in Children’s Court proceedings. Thank God for small mercies.