Dark Horse (12 page)

‘We still shouldn’t be doing this.’

‘I’m a big boy, I can control myself.’

‘I’m a grown-up girl – I can’t.’

‘Nice.’

‘You’re hoping I get carried away.’

He’d brought some of the outside chill and damp in with him. She shivered with it. He climbed back onto the bed and wriggled in beside her. His naked body felt taboo. Of all the things they’d done, this nude embrace felt the most sexual. In one another’s arms, they faced each other; fell silent, looking at one another. He went to say something, but stopped himself. The torchlight had been retired too early; Sarah wanted his face illuminated.

‘What?’

‘I might miss the fog.’

‘Think about how it’s a bigger disappointment for me,’ she said. ‘All I would have been to you was another name on your list of conquests. Whereas for me you’re . . .’ she smacked her lips, ‘the Gorgeous Young Dark Horse. I lose those bragging rights. I would have loved to walk around with you on my arm, sticking my finger up at anyone who gawked. Who’s going to believe me? If you think I come off crazy now, what about when you disappear and I’m saying,
no I swear, he was right here, and he was hot
.’

‘You don’t come off as crazy.’

He moved closer. His knee nudged between her legs.

‘It’s not even like it’s a low risk,’ she told him softly. ‘I’d been trying for a baby before the split and I know my cycle. This would be the worst time for us to be doing it.’

‘I won’t stay inside you.’

‘We’re not sixteen, we know that doesn’t work.’

He rolled onto his back and pulled her up on top of him. He made it so that he was pinned under her. Sarah put her hands either side of his shoulders and pushed her top half off him, her legs and hips remaining against his. She looked down at him.

Sarah knew his taste, could recall it in an instant, knew his scent, knew the varying degrees of arousal he had, and what to do to increase his desire and when he was close to climax, knew how his body felt when relaxed and what it felt like braced and tense, knew the different shades of green his eyes could go. She knew the texture of his palms, the thickness of his fingers, the silky smooth top part of his feet, tiny earlobes, the tired timbre of his late-night voice, the depth of his early-morning tone, she knew what his smile felt like beneath her lips, just thinking about the times he’d sung out of key and hummed a country tune sent a warm feeling through her chest. Going over in her mind the things he’d said and his ideas and opinions had become her favourite pastime, second only to touching him.

‘Shit,’ she said.

She went to climb off. He stopped her by grabbing her legs and pulling her into a position where she was straddling him. With her sitting up on top of him and the lamp behind her, all she could make out was his short beard, his dark hair, the lovely line of him.

After a stretch of silence, staring at one another, he said, ‘I don’t want to get down off this mountain and not know what it’s like to be with you properly.’

‘So look me up once we’re down off the mountain.’

‘I’m not going to be able to do that.’

‘Then we shouldn’t be doing this.’

He linked his hands above his head. He made himself prone beneath her. His position was strong but submissive. ‘I don’t care about the risk. I’m never going to meet another person like you. I can tell you right now in the quiet moments I’ll come back here; again and again in my mind I’ll come back here. Won’t you?’

As much as Sarah wanted to say no to take the heat out of the moment, she knew she couldn’t lie. ‘Yes.’

‘When you touch me it feels right. When you’re not touching me, I can’t get anything straight in my head. I want to feel you properly. I want to know what it’s like to be inside you.’

‘Part of my sadness has been that my chance to be a mother has been taken away. I can’t gamble this.’

‘If you feel like time is slipping away from you, shouldn’t you make the most of it? I’ll never understand why people aren’t bigger risk takers the older they get. If you were nineteen you wouldn’t be like this – you’d be cracking a UDL, puffing on a joint and riding me like a true cowgirl.’

‘I wasn’t that sort of nineteen-year-old.’

‘Yet the odds of you falling pregnant would have been four times as high.’

‘Thank you for reminding me.’

Heath put his hands around her waist, lifted her hips off him and wriggled that bit higher in the bed, placing her down again, this time so that his erection was pressed flat against her. ‘I wasn’t angry earlier because I was frightened about the weather and what was happening down the mountain. I was angry at you. One word from you about leaving and it burns. Not for any of the commonsense reasons, but because the idea of not seeing you again panics me.’

‘Doing this isn’t going to make things any —’

‘It’s like I’ve fallen in love with you.’

‘You’ve got your family,’ Sarah said sagely after a moment, ‘you’ve got your mates, your farm, you’ve got your youth, no one has wasted ten years of your life . . .’ As she spoke he held her by the hips and began to rock her back and forth, rubbing her against his erection. ‘Don’t say things like that to me; you don’t mean what you’re saying, you’ll feel differently once you’re down from here and back to your normal life.’

‘I must be in love, because I know what you’re saying is right, and if you fell pregnant it would be a disaster, but . . .’ with a deft hand movement between their bodies, Heath slid himself inside her, he pushed himself deep, ‘I just really want to fuck you.’

Sarah became motionless. The days and nights of denying themselves this close contact made her hyperaware of the size and feel of him.

‘Telling someone you’re in love with them isn’t what you do to make a moment a bit more memorable.’

As she spoke he began moving inside her, as though words and conversation were the beat he moved to. He arched up and moaned.

‘This isn’t love.’

‘Explain to me what it feels like.’

‘Love?’

‘No, what my cock feels like inside you.’

Sarah untangled herself from him and reached for her clothes. The lamplight dimmed and began to flutter with diminishing battery power. ‘You’ve never had to wait for sex. That’s all you’re feeling, Heath – mildly frustrated.’

He took the clothes from her hands and pushed her gently onto the bed, face down on the sheet. The top of her head was against the pillow. He widened her legs, got between them and guided himself inside her, leaned over her, his chest against her back and his mouth against her ear. ‘I wouldn’t call it mild.’

The lamp battery died and the van was pitch black again. He got into a rhythm.

Heath’s want was as toned and muscular as he was; it was as dark and engaging.

W
ith the new rain came a warmer type of damp. Sarah wasn’t cold out by the fire, not as chilled as the fog had made her feel at times. She sat with her knees up in her chair. Tansy was saddled and ready in her stable. Her reins were looped loosely over the top timber rail. It was five a.m. They would leave as soon as there was daylight. With the torch switched off, Sarah was softly illuminated in the glow of the freshly stoked fire. Heath had begun moving about in the van. He would open the door any moment. She had no idea what she would say to him, or, for that matter, what he would say to her.

Listening to the sounds he was making, waiting for him to emerge, a different puzzle began to niggle in the back of Sarah’s mind. There was something about the creaks the van suspension made under his weight . . . or . . . not so much that, but the
lack
of creaking. All the times Heath had climbed the step, limped heavy down to the bed, Sarah had never heard again that sound she remembered when he’d stepped up onto the tow bar. The only other time she could recall hearing that distinctive squeak was when she’d been out digging holes in the fog on Boxing Day. Sarah looked up at the van roof.

She stood on her chair and rose up on tiptoes, lifted her arm and shone the torch from a height, peering as she swept the beam back and forth, along the van roof rack.

And there it was, her gun. Sarah stepped down from the chair and went across to the tow bar. Lighter than Heath, and lighter on her feet, she was able to climb up onto the bar without making the van lean or creak as he had. From that position though she couldn’t reach the weapon. Stretching for it, it lay a few inches from her grasp.

Sarah stepped down and went to the rear of the van where there was a small ladder attached, letting her climb up to the roof rack. As Sarah began climbing Heath opened the van door and came down the step. She poked her head around and could see his shadowed shape. He was looking above him, seeing the torch beam on the shed roof, confused about where Sarah was and from what direction the light was shining. Sarah continued up the ladder. From the top of the van she peeked over the edge. Heath had worked out where she was and was looking up at her. She swept the torch beam down over him. They were both silent.

Sarah realised while she was up there fetching her weapon, that Heath had been adamant about untying the cord from the roof rack himself because he’d been worried about her seeing the gun, and he had possibly done the final damage to his knee when climbing down from the tow bar the first time, any wonder he’d been so fearful and careful the second time, too timid to step down at all. Sarah laid the rifle near the top of the ladder and climbed the majority of the way down without it. She reached up to take the gun when she had only the last ladder rung to negotiate, and she dropped to the dirt floor.

While around the back and out of Heath’s line of sight, Sarah checked to see if the weapon had been loaded. It hadn’t. She slid the action closed again, as she did, the smooth, oiled glide of the bolt action, the distinctive weapon sound that emanated above the thrum of the rain, made Sarah realise Heath would have no way of knowing whether or not she’d just loaded the gun. He had to know she’d brought ammunition on her ride. When he’d taken the gun, he would have checked to see if there were bullets inside it.

Sarah walked out with the gun and saw she was right – his silhouette was rigid. It was an effort for him to hold his ground as she approached.

‘Lame hiding spot,’ she said, and then smiled at her own double entendre, ‘– easy to find after all and your knee would have stopped you from moving it to a better spot. How cool, the weapon really has been hanging over our heads.’

He made a sound in his throat and sat down at the table. Sarah sat opposite him with the rifle across her knee. ‘It makes for an interesting slant on question-and-answer time.
Joking
,’ she added with a grin.

He didn’t respond.

‘Not talking?’

‘What do you expect when you pull a gun on me?’

‘I haven’t pulled it on you. I took it back; it’s mine.’

‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Me having the gun is no different than you having it. You took it off me. How is this any different than what you did? Does me having it on my knee make you uncomfortable?’

‘You know it does.’

‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘Stop it.’

‘What do you think I’m going to do with it?’

‘It’s hard to know with you.’

‘So . . .’ she continued, teasingly, ‘. . . would they have found that car of yours yet? Where did you say it was again? And I didn’t quite catch the address of your parents’ place, or the name of your brother, or your surname for that matter. Shouldn’t it be
Hotel
Bravo on your leg, Heath, not the other way around? B.H. hey? Brett? Brian? Barry?’

He sniffed.

‘I think it’s hypocritical,’ she persisted, ‘you’ve had the gun, and I wasn’t allowed to be upset about it. I had to accept that you were in charge.’

‘I can’t believe you’re doing this.’

‘You did it to me.’

‘I’ve done nothing to you.’ His voice lifted slightly.

‘It really bothers a guy, doesn’t it, when their top spot is threatened? I’m only pointing out the double standards.’

‘I told you I’m in love with you last night for God’s sake. Is this your response?’

She laid the gun on the table. ‘If it makes you feel better to have it, then have it. And I, understandably, will keep hold of the bullets.’

‘I put it up there, okay. I did that. I only did it so that it was out of the picture. I don’t know why you’d want to bring it back.’

‘
I
put the weapon out of the picture by putting it under the pallet and
you
brought it back in by moving it.’

‘What was I meant to do? You had all the bullets.’

Sarah’s eyes narrowed across at him. ‘Had?’ She reached for the ammunition clip in her shirt pocket. Its familiar weight and shape had been there when she’d dressed that morning, but she hadn’t checked it beyond that. She did now. The magazine had been emptied.

Sarah turned the empty metal casing in her hand. The only time it had been away from her body was last night, bundled on the bed in amongst her clothes. She remembered now how he’d picked up the pile, moving her things further away from her. ‘The clothes-on rule really did have you frustrated.’

He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, shook his head.

‘Are you still going to run with the
I’m just being safe for
your benefit
line? Or is there some other slant you’re going to try? You can stop the
I love you
tack, it’s lazy and unimaginative.’

‘It’s not to hurt you. It’s not about deceiving you. You know that.’

‘Why didn’t you ask me for the bullets then?’

‘Because I thought we were being smarter than that.’

He took the gun from the table, got up and went into the van.

Sarah could hear him opening the drawer beneath the bed. Light had crept into the sky. Heavy rain fell. Tansy was standing, saddled and waiting, ears pricked and looking down at them, hearing and sensing the change.

Heath came back out. He was carrying his headlamp, the ziplock bag that contained his wallet and his phone, a pocketknife Sarah hadn’t seen before, and her phone battery.

‘Where did that knife come from?’

‘I’m not sure we should talk anymore.’

He pulled his chair close to the table and laid the objects out in front of him. He placed the pocketknife on his side of the table. He put on his headlamp and focused the light downwards to illuminate the tabletop.

The pocketknife had multiple tools and he flicked out a delicate blade designed for fiddly jobs. He used it to prise apart his phone. He had it in two neat halves in the space of a minute, maybe less.

Sarah sat down and leaned back with her arms crossed. She sucked in her cheeks. ‘It’s unbelievable – if anyone has been kidding themselves, it’s me. I’m the one who’s had her head in the clouds, thinking I could trust you.’

‘Like I said, it’s probably best if we don’t talk.’

He tried to fit her battery in his phone. It was the wrong shape and too big, the small metal contact points didn’t line up anyway. He got up with the pocketknife and went over to the van tail-light, unscrewed the indicator cover, took it off and began separating the wires from the globes inside.

Alongside the items he’d laid out on the table was his wallet. Sarah reached for it.

‘Don’t,’ he said from over by the van.

Her hand lingered over it.

‘Sarah, think about it – if you push me into a corner . . .’

She withdrew her hand. ‘It’s such bullshit. You pushed me into a corner. You made me think I could talk to you. You obviously haven’t got a sick brother because there is no way you’d use someone’s uncertainty against them like that. You had me thinking I’d drunk that alcohol. You deliberately messed with my head, because you knew you could.’

He brought the wires he’d collected to the table. They were to bridge the gap and carry the current from her battery to his phone. Before he started stripping them back, he put his wallet away in his pocket.

‘Are you fair dinkum?’ she asked bitterly.

‘Yeah I am, and I have been, and I was last night – I meant what I said. I’m not sure you’ve meant anything you’ve said.’

‘How can you be so righteous?’

‘It’s amazing that you can’t see the bigger picture.’

‘You won’t tell me the bigger picture.’

He cleared his throat and kept his gaze down on the phone and wires. ‘You’re going to ride down to the river no matter what I say. So I need to make a call. I’m sorry you’re upset. I took the battery from your phone because I had to. I lied because I had to. I shouldn’t have slept with you. I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have told you I love you. But don’t threaten me, don’t push me, don’t stop me from doing what I have to do, and please don’t sit there swearing at me, it’s only going to make me do something I really don’t want to have to do.’

‘I hate the way you say you’re sorry all the time.’

‘Well, I’m sorry about that too.’

He got up and went inside the van again, began pulling apart something in there. A regular MacGyver.

While he was gone Sarah looked out into the rain and thought about leaving. But what if the river couldn’t be crossed? She’d have to trudge back up here – to him.

He came out carrying a long strip of salvaged electricians tape, carefully cradling it sticky side up in his palm. Without looking at her, he sat back down and worked at taping the wires onto the separate conductivity plates in his phone.

‘If you could have fixed the phone all along, why didn’t you? Thought you’d wait until I put out?’

‘Any calls I made or messages I got wouldn’t have made you very comfortable, and would have introduced all sorts of problems.’

‘So it’s deteriorated to this?’

‘Yes it has.’

She got up and left the table.

It was a tenuous connection but it worked. Heath’s phone screen lit up.

‘Okay,’ he murmured with his hands hovering over the cobbled-together device. Wires and tape protruded from the base of it. Sarah walked back to the table. She could see the home screen – a photograph of a battle-scarred bloodhound. She leaned closer, to see how many bars of reception they were getting. No Service.

‘Come on . . .’ he said impatiently down at the phone.

‘You’ll get coverage in the hut.’

He didn’t look up at her, but she could see he was considering what she’d said.

‘There’s a plastic takeaway container in the van. Carry the phone down in that so it doesn’t get wet.’

The rain hadn’t let up. It was a shimmering, noisy, chainmail barrier. The ground would be slippery, and Sarah’s gait remained the more reliable of the two.

‘I should carry the phone,’ she said.

‘You’ll deliberately drop it.’

‘Why would I do that? What do you think I am?’

He walked out into the rain, carrying the phone inside the container, taking one slow step at a time, as though dealing with explosives. Sarah took off her coat and ran up beside him. She held the coat over his head and made a tent as best she could out in front of him, to shield the container. She blinked the water from her eyes, took gasped breaths in the deluge. She was soaked through within a few steps. The incline down to the hut was hard for Heath to manage. He limped awkwardly, lost his footing. Sarah grabbed him and stopped him from falling.

‘Thank you,’ he relented.

After another few clumsy steps he conceded and passed her the container. She held it close to her chest.

‘Please don’t do anything stupid.’ Rain was streaming down his face, causing him to shut one eye.

As they entered the hut, he was in her ear – ‘Don’t rush. Go slow,’ as they wound their way through the poles and timber.

From inside the container was the soft
da doomp
of a text message arriving. Sarah almost dropped the box in shock. ‘Did you hear that?’

‘It’s working.’

The
da doomps
kept coming one after the other and then, in the face of a stream of them, the phone paused and gave a final single alert.

She could hear the nervous excitement in Heath’s voice as he told her to place the box down near the front door. He rushed forward and closed the door to stop any rain from splashing in. In front of them was the graffiti of Sid and the woman. Sarah and Heath looked at each other. There was something about the drawing that hit home. With the return of the faintest glimmer of mischievousness in Heath’s eyes, and with his gaze lingering on the line
and he fucks like a demon
, Sarah said, ‘Don’t flatter yourself.’

‘Demon-ish?’

The moment passed and he set to work stacking some timber off-cuts to make a low table. He lifted the container onto it. Sarah shivered with both anticipation and cold. Raindrops covered the plastic lid, obscuring her ability to read the screen. Heath peeled the lid back. The phone was nestled in a bed of cling film, but Heath nudged her back before she had a chance to read the list of texts. He stood in front of her and shook his hands and flicked the water from his fingers. Water was dripping from his hair, and soaking down through the sleeves of his shirt and rewetting his hands.