Riddle Gully Secrets (14 page)

Twig smiled awkwardly. ‘I meant that I've got a ute … a utility … a small truck. It's not too far from here – a mile maybe, mostly downhill.'

She stopped fanning and sat up a little straighter.

‘I'd want to stop in at my camp though and leave my boy a note,' said Twig. ‘He and his friends have gone off exploring a cave.'

At this, the woman's eyes widened. She must be in pain, thought Twig. The sooner he got her some help, the better.

Just then, Twig heard thudding. He turned to see a big bear of a bloke striding down the trail. He was holding a mobile phone in his palm and laying curses upon it. ‘I climb a darned mountain, I finally get reception, and all I get is His Fancy-pants on voicemail invitin' me to leave
a message!'

The fellow looked up, saw Twig beside the woman and suddenly began bounding towards them. ‘Pooky! What's he done to you? Isn't this the guy who –'

His hands were tightening around Twig's throat when Pooky piped up. ‘Curly-honey? This nice gentleman here's got a utility truck nearby, would you believe?'

Curly let go of Twig's neck but his fists hovered close. ‘What do we want with some beat-up old truck?'

‘To carry me back to town, you knucklehead!'

Curly eyed Twig suspiciously. ‘I don't want my missus here bouncin' round the tray of some hippy tin can. She's had a rough day already.'

‘Curly-sweetie? This nice fella's got a
kid
… with
friends
… who went exploring in a
cave
this morning!'

‘Kids?' Curly bellowed. Curly slapped Twig's back so hard he nearly toppled. ‘Pooky and I just
love
kids! In fact, we got six of 'em ourselves, don't we Pooky?'

Pooky looked fleetingly surprised. ‘Sure do!' she said brightly. ‘Sweet as Fruit Tingles every one!'

Curly drew Pooky to her feet and hugged her to his side. He grinned like a skeleton at Twig, a picture of parental pride.

Pooky batted him away. ‘Get out of it! You're
embarrassing this nice man. And he must be just itching to get to his camp where those
kids
could be coming back
any second
. We'd hate to miss meeting them, wouldn't we?'

‘Gold!' said Dan. ‘I was much more comfortable when I didn't know there was real, actual treasure in the box.' He wrung his hands. ‘I wonder how far away those two are. What if they didn't go straight back? What if they've got dogs sniffing us out as we speak?'

‘Let's just take a quick look, then get going into town,' said Pollo. ‘If we divide it up it'll be easier to carry.'

‘And safer for the treasure if it's not all in one place,' said Will. ‘Same way the royal family never travels all on the same plane at once.'

Pollo looked at him in surprise. ‘I didn't think you were a follower.'

Will shrugged. ‘There are magazines in the dunny. You pick up stuff when you're sitting there and –' He
noticed Ash looking at him.
Stop
, he told himself.
Stop right there!

They unwrapped two more nuggets, several fob watches, necklaces, rings and other bits of jewellery. They had reached the bottom of the strongbox. Everything it had contained was now spread on the tarpaulin. Pollo was scribbling a list in her notepad.

‘That's everything?' Dan upturned the box and gave it a shake.

‘You look disappointed,' said Ash.

‘I think I was hoping we'd find something that'd make everything about the olden days and what happened to my ancestor fall into place. That's the last time I follow my instincts.'

Will cuffed him on the back of his head. ‘Maybe deep down you hoped an alien would spring out and kidnap you.'

‘No, I don't think so,' said Dan solemnly.

‘You might be disappointed, Dan, but I'm not,' said Pollo. ‘I've got my first news story for the year and it's a ripper. This stuff just
has
to have been Diamond Jack's. People are going to love that! And they'll thank us forever for saving it!'

Pollo screwed up her face. ‘There's only one downside.'

‘What's that?' said Will.

‘It looks like, as Diamond Jack's ancestor, Mayor Bullock will get it after all.'

‘I keep thinking how it was stolen in the first place,' said Ash. ‘From real people. Now that I see it, I don't like touching it.'

‘Let's just get back to town and hand it over,' said Will. ‘Maybe it can be traced to its proper owners.'

‘I'm with you,' said Pollo. She rewrapped a nugget and plonked it into the strongbox.

‘That sounded odd,' said Ash.

Pollo rapped the floor of the chest with the nugget.
Thonk, thonk, thonk.

‘It sounds hollow,' said Ash.

Pollo tapped again. ‘Like this chest has a false floor.' She grabbed a knife, dug it into the bottom corner and prised. Sure enough, the thin wooden floor of the strongbox popped up. Beneath was a cavity about the thickness of a thumb. And lying in it was something carefully parcelled in waxed cloth.

Pollo laid it on the tarpaulin and unfolded it eagerly. ‘A letter!' She slipped it halfway from its thick yellowed envelope. ‘And an old photograph!' She waved them in the air. ‘The Historical Society will love these!'

‘No time to look at them now though,' said Will.

‘Wait!' said Dan. ‘Could you pass me the photo?'

Pollo handed it over. Dan studied it and gave it back, frowning. ‘Funny.'

‘Yeah, well they all looked a bit funny back then,' said Pollo. She slipped the photo back with the letter and began rewrapping them in the cloth.

‘What's that?' said Will, pointing. ‘That lump in the corner. Something's sewn into the hem.'

‘We really should be going,' said Dan.

‘It feels like a ring,' said Ash, stroking the lump between her fingertips.

‘Dan, we need scissors!' cried Pollo. Thirty seconds later she was snipping the old cotton stitches.

As the object fell into her lap, Pollo gasped. It was a ring, smooth and golden, set with a ruby rosette. She held it to the sun.

‘Wowsa!' said Will.

‘Oh my!' said Ash.

‘It must be special in some way to be separate from all the other jewellery in the box,' said Pollo.

Ash rubbed her nose and sniffed. ‘The letter might tell us some … some … some –' She stopped talking and shook her head vigorously.
Aah-va-va-chee-yew
!

Ash sat very still, her eyes wide, her finger pressed sideways under her nose.

‘Are you alright, Ash?' said Will.

Ash shook her head. She pointed to the forest. ‘They're coming.'

They sprang forward on their hands and knees and began returning things to the strongbox as quickly and carefully as they could. There was no time to fit the chest's false bottom. Pollo stuffed the ring inside the envelope with the letter and photograph. They were still trying to disguise the chest, wrapping it in the plastic tarpaulin, when Ash's head jiggled and she blasted another
aah-va-va-chee-yew!

Twig sauntered into the campsite. He was closely followed by Curly and, limping and leaning on Curly's arm, Pooky.

‘You made it!' cried Twig happily. ‘I have to admit, I got a bit worried after you'd gone. Caves can be dangerous places.' As Twig spoke the tarpaulin began slowly unfolding itself.

Twig winked at Dan. ‘You'll be proud of me! You know you're always saying we don't have enough friends? Well today I made two!' Twig was flustered a moment. He turned to his new buddies, who were looking greedily around the campsite. ‘Do we call you Pooky and Curly?'

‘No,' said Pooky. She picked up Twig's ukulele from beside the tent and ran a finger down its neck.

‘Oh … alrighty,' said Twig.

Pollo's eyes flicked to the chest. Its edge was now visible beneath the tarp. She glanced across to Curly and knew he'd seen too. A smile crept onto his lips.

Curly pointed at it. ‘That looks interesting. Let's have a look at it.'

‘Sorry,' said Pollo. ‘We were about to take it into town where it will be safe.' She stepped forward and picked up the chest. Dan, Ash and Will gathered behind her.

Curly patted a bulge in his vest pocket. It looked a lot like the outline of a gun. ‘See, that's where you're goin' about it all wrong, miss.'

‘How's that?' said Pollo.

Pooky took over. ‘That chest you've got there belongs to the mayor.' Her long nails dragged on the ukulele strings. ‘And we're acting on his behalf.' She
plucked the uke's A-string.
Ping!
‘In our book, that means it belongs to us.'

‘But you were happy to blow it all up!' yelped Dan.

‘What?' said Twig. ‘Explosives? That sounds a bit risky.'

‘Lord love a duck!' Pooky stamped her bad foot and winced with pain. ‘Curly, stop pussyfooting around! One good knuckle and hippy-man's beef stew!'

‘Hey!' said Twig. ‘I didn't mean to –'

But before he could finish, Curly grabbed Twig and lifted him off the ground, trapping him under his strong right arm. Curly drew back his left arm, his fist bunched tight.

Twig, his arms pinned to his sides, kicked his skinny legs in the air.

Suddenly Dan came flying across the campsite, an animal roar leaping from his chest. ‘Let go of my father!'

Dan sprang onto Curly's left shoulder and clung like a monkey, both legs wrapped around Curly's torso, both arms around his thick neck.

Curly was busy trying to twirl him off when a tinny tune laced through the air. Everyone stopped wriggling to listen. The music seemed to be coming from Curly's vest – a jaunty ‘You are My Sunshine'.

Curly called to Pooky. ‘It'll be Fancy-pants callin'
back.' He nodded to his pocket. ‘Would ya mind, Pooky-doll?'

Dan scrabbled for the phone, but Pooky hobbled over with surprising speed and snatched it from him. She looked at Dan triumphantly, the phone in one hand, Twig's ukulele in the other.

Pooky's voice was as sweet as treacle. ‘Good morning, Your Worship!' She eyed the strongbox. ‘Yeah, we got it alright. Hey listen, Mr Mayor, we've got our own wheels out of here now … Yes sir, that's right. A utility truck. So you don't need to come and get us anymore. We can meet you at the Federal Hotel.'

She listened, rolling her eyes. ‘What do you mean
skip town
? Course we're not planning to skip town!' She smirked at Curly. ‘I'm insulted! What do you take us for?'

‘Let him come and get us, Pooky,' whispered Curly, still holding Twig and Dan.

‘Just one second, Mr Mayor.' Pooky put the phone against her chest. ‘But then Fancy-pants will see the chest and want everything in it,' she hissed.

Curly gestured with his jaw around the campsite. ‘If this is how hippy-man lives, I don't trust his truck. We don't wanna end up stranded in the bush, Pooky – you with your busted ankle. We can easy get around Fancypants
when the time comes.'

Pooky lifted the phone. ‘Alright, Mr Mayor,' she said. ‘Come and get us if you insist … What? … Oh, hang on.'

Pooky bent down to Twig under Curly's arm. ‘Where are we?'

Twig swivelled his face upward. ‘End of the firebreak, east of Mustang Rock.' He smiled amiably.

Pooky passed it on to the mayor. ‘That's right – his campsite.' She tilted her head and eyed Twig up and down. ‘Yeah, now you mention it, he does look like a praying mantis.'

Pooky pocketed the phone and looked around the circle. ‘So the sweet old mayor is coming to join us. So everyone take a seat. Relax, smell the flowers … and the treasure.' She plucked the ukulele's E-string.
Dwang!

Curly set Twig and Dan on the ground, keeping a hand on Twig's bony shoulder.

‘Mayor Bullock won't blow up anything, at least,' said Will. He sat on the tarpaulin. Pollo and Ash followed silently.

Pooky pointed the head of the ukulele to Dan and Will. ‘You and you, smooth out the tarp and empty the chest on it nice and easy. Let's see what we've got here.'

‘Do it yourself!' blurted Dan.

Pooky sneered at him. ‘You're not nearly as adorable
as your daddy thinks you are.' Suddenly, with both hands, she clasped the ukulele by its slender neck and raised it high above her head.

‘
No-oh-oh
!' Dan and Twig screeched together.

‘Do as I say or the baby guitar gets it!' snarled Pooky, her eyes glittering. ‘Empty the chest!'

‘Come on, Dan,' said Will hurriedly. He bent over the strongbox, joined by Ash and Pollo. ‘Help us unpack it. It's all just rocks and rubbish anyway.'

‘We're in over our heads, Dan,' said Pollo. ‘I want to live to tell the tale. Speaking of which –' she turned to Pooky and Curly, ‘– what did you say your real names were?'

Pooky drummed the ukulele with a fingernail. ‘We didn't.'

Dan shuffled across to join them. Slowly, one item at a time, they laid out the jewellery and the nuggets of gold, Curly and Pooky looking on.

After a minute, Pooky dropped Twig's ukulele and sank to the tarpaulin herself, forgetting about her ankle. She set about sorting the shiny objects – rings in one pile, necklaces in another, earrings in another and so on.

Twig moved to retrieve the uke but Curly held him back with a squeeze of his shoulder. The little wooden instrument lay in the dust, the sun searing into its resins.

Pooky began tossing things willy-nilly, muttering under her breath.
Nickel. Stone missing. Paste. Broken clasp. Chipped. Ugly!
She hurled a crystal earring aside. ‘It hasn't even got a pair!'

Dan looked at the earring lying on the tarpaulin. The sun was catching it, shooting vivid colours onto the tent. He looked to the crystal twirling from its hook at the tent entrance.