The Golden Stranger (12 page)

She watched the shock grow on her friend's face as she took the moonstone Shara held out.

‘It's a promise that he'll see me again,' said Jess. She stared at Shara, bewildered. ‘Where is he
going
?'

‘I don't know. He just said he'd see you in six weeks,' said Shara gently. This was so messed up. Everyone's lives were being hammered. ‘I'm so sorry.'

‘He didn't have to leave town!' Anger grew in Jess's voice. ‘My God, I can't believe my parents have driven him out of town!'

‘It was his choice, Jess. He probably knew you'd still come and find him and get yourself into even more trouble.'

Jess slipped off Dodger and stood with her face hidden in the flaps of the saddle. She thumped the fender with a frustrated fist.

Shara put a hand on her shoulder and Jess looked sideways at her. Her focus changed abruptly. ‘Why are you on foot?'

Shara didn't answer.

Jess's jaw dropped. ‘Your parents spewed too, didn't they? Oh, Sharsy, they didn't . . . '

‘Dad put Rocko on the float,' Shara said in a calm, controlled voice. ‘He took him away.' She turned and began walking again. If she kept walking, she had to keep breathing. And if she could just keep breathing, in and out, she could keep the tears back.

Jess followed, leading Dodger behind her. ‘For how long?'

Shara shrugged, bit her lip and kept walking.

‘What? For good?' Jess swore in disbelief. ‘They can't do that, he's
your
horse! You paid for him with your
own
money!'

‘Oh, yes they can.' Shara looked ahead along the winding roadside track, putting one foot in front of the other, and changed the subject. ‘Anyway, I'm more worried about Corey right now.'

‘Did you go and see him? Is he okay?'

‘No. Dad won't let me. But Tom's dad says he has concussion.' And that was when the tears burst. Shara stopped walking and let it all pour out. ‘Corey is in real trouble and I've lost Rocko. You can't see Luke. All over one horse. It's all gone too far, Jess.'

Jess led her away from the road and found a large rock for them both to sit on. ‘I should never have talked you into going to Brisbane. It was my stupid idea, but I didn't think . . . I didn't realise how nasty the Connemans are.'

‘They're saying we tried to steal the mare,' said Shara. ‘They're saying she kicked Corey in the head. The whole thing is completely screwed up!'

‘You're not wrong.' Jess sat quietly for a while. ‘This all started out as a protest against wild horse races. It was about an event, not about one particular horse. Maybe we should just forget about Goldie, Shara.' She rubbed Shara's arm. ‘The RSPCA will take good care of him. He's not your responsibility.'

‘I know they will, but I can't let the Connemans get away with it. And where will Goldie end up if we don't help him? We've got everything we need to prove they own him, now.' Shara reached into her backpack and pulled out the small silk purse. ‘I've still got the DNA sample, and the photo Corey took of the mare. She has a brand that proves she belongs to the Connemans. If we can show the colt is out of her, we can out those lying scumbags. It's really hard for me to get around without Rocko – could you take this to Tom's dad?'

‘Why Tom's dad?' asked Jess, taking the purse.

‘He said he would try to help Corey with the horse theft charges. I reckon he might be able to use the sample as evidence that we were only after some hairs, not after the horse.'

Jess gave Shara a warm smile. ‘I saw the way Corey fought for you. He's okay, I reckon.'

‘Not just a rodeo schmuck?'

‘He's a bit of a cowboy, if you ask me,' said her bestie. ‘And you're right; it should be illegal to look that good in jeans.
Anyway
, I'll ride over to the Hoskins' place now and see if Tom's dad is home.'

‘Ring me and tell me what he says.'

‘Mum and Dad took my phone, as usual.' A look of misery crossed Jess's face. ‘So that I can't ring Luke.'

‘Oh, Jess. If we prove that we're the good guys, surely they won't hold you to that.'

Jess shrugged and Shara noticed how red raw her eyes were. She'd been bawling all night too. Shara gave her a hug. ‘Hey, best bestie,' she said softly.

Jess gave her a feeble smile.

‘We'll get these Connemans. Everything we need to redeem ourselves is in that purse.'

Jess buttoned it carefully into her top pocket, then put a foot in one stirrup and hoisted herself into the saddle. ‘I'm working at the bakery this afternoon. Come down and I'll tell you what Mr Hoskins said.'

15

THE AROMA OF
cinnamon buns seemed as wonderfully comforting as always when Shara walked into the bakery that afternoon. She took her place behind a thin woman with greying hair and waited for Jess to finish serving her.

Jess popped her head around the woman. ‘Be with you in a sec, Shara.'

The woman turned and looked Shara up and down. Shara met her gaze. Her face had the deep-rutted wrinkles of a smoker. In her arms were two large paper sacks filled with day-old bread. She pushed past Shara, opened the door–handle with her elbow and disappeared out the bakery door.

‘Who was that?' Shara asked Jess.

Jess motioned for her to come closer. ‘She's one of the Connemans, they're back in town,' she said in a hushed voice. ‘She was asking all about you, even where you live!'

Shara went to the window and peeked between the net curtains. Some way down the street, the woman got into a small red sedan and closed the door. Shara recognised the car as the one that had nearly run her over that morning.

‘Everyone in town is talking about Corey. They're all coming in here asking if he stole a horse.'

Shara snorted with outrage. ‘The rumour mill is
unbelievable
in this town,' she said. ‘What did Mr Hoskins say?'

‘Not much. He said, “I'll see what I can do.”' Jess held up her hands and shrugged.

Shara peeked back out the window. The car was still there, with two people sitting in the front. Her mind raced. ‘What are they
doing
there?'

Jess joined her at the window. ‘Stalking you, by the look of it.'

‘Why?'

‘Because they hate you?'

‘Why? What did I do?'

‘Errr, spray-painted all their brumbies, splashed them all over the front page of the local newspaper, forced them to surrender ten of their horses. Nearly put them out of business. Then there was the incident down in Brisbane . . . ' ‘Okay,
okay
! But it wasn't just
me
!'

‘Yeah, but you're the one they busted.'

Shara cursed under her breath. This conversation was doing nothing to make her feel safer.

‘Want me to ring the cops?'

‘And tell them what?' said Shara. ‘They're not doing anything wrong. They're just sitting in a car eating.'

A large white LandCruiser pulled up and parked behind the red car. John Duggin stepped out.

‘Oh no, it's Corey's dad! He'll be so angry!' Shara briefly considered slipping out the back door.

‘Is that the oven timer I can hear beeping?' said Jess, heading for the kitchen.

‘Don't just leave me here,' hissed Shara.

John opened the door with such force that Shara thought the bell would jingle itself off its fixtures. He stalked to the counter and stared at the display of cakes with a tight face and his hands tucked into his dark-blue coveralls.

‘Can I help you?' asked Jess, so meekly she sounded ridiculous.

John pulled a small plastic bag from his pocket and slapped it on the counter. Inside was the small lock of cream-coloured horse hair. So he had spoken to Mr Hoskins.

Shara stepped forward. ‘Hi, John.'

John's eyes flashed to her. They were usually filled with diagnostic contemplation and calm compassion. She had never seen him riled up before.

‘Corey wasn't kicked by a horse,' he stated.

‘No.'

‘Why would someone punch him like that?' He turned the hair sample about in his hand, and Shara realised her answer would determine what he would decide to do with it. His eyes bored a hole through her. ‘Did Corey throw the first punch?'

‘Graham Conneman had me by the arm and Corey was trying to get him to let go.'

John's gaze didn't move from her as he digested her answer. ‘Why did Graham Conneman have you by the arm?'

‘He caught me mucking around with his horse, but we weren't trying to steal it, we were just trying to get that hair sample. We ran into Corey and he tried to tell me not to. He warned me that they weren't nice people.'

‘You should have listened to him.'

‘Yes.'

‘You took this sample without the owner's consent?'

Shara nodded.

John tossed the bag into the rubbish bin that sat in the corner of the shop. ‘Haven't you kids already been in enough trouble with these people without going searching for more?' he said. Obviously he knew about the spray-painting.

‘Hey!' Shara looked at the sample in the bin and thought of all she'd been through to collect it. ‘We're not the bad guys! The Connemans are outside right now. Why don't you go and ask them what happened?'

‘What?'

Shara pointed out the window. ‘In the red car. You just walked straight past them!'

John stormed back out the door and marched across the road. Both Jess and Shara ran to the window and peeked out. The woman in the red car wound up her window and started the engine. The car jolted out of its park and John banged his fist on the bonnet as he jumped out of its way.

He stood in the street watching it disappear before marching back into the bakery, flinging the door open so hard that this time the bell really did fly off its fixtures. It landed on the floor with a limp jingle and rolled to a stop.

‘Get in my car, Shara,' he ordered. ‘I'll give you a lift home.'

Shara picked up her backpack, shot a farewell glance at Jess and followed him out the door.

John's four-wheel drive was huge, luxurious and smelled of pine deodoriser. She sank into the sheepskin-covered seat and pulled the lap sash around herself. John got in and the engine made a soft purr as he turned the key. He put the car into a U-turn and the ceiling-high racks of vet supplies rattled in the back. He cut the ABC news jingle on the radio.

‘I'm really sorry that Corey got hurt,' said Shara.

‘Don't be,' snapped John, flicking on the indicator and turning onto Coachwood Road. ‘Might have done him some good, the smartalec.'

The silence was awkward as they drove along Coach–wood Road.

‘Have you seen Goldie?'

‘Shara, that colt is the least of your concerns at the moment. You already have a good horse, you should concentrate on him.'

‘Not anymore I don't.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Dad took him away.'

John seemed taken aback and there was silence for a while. ‘What, for good? Where did he take him? Not to the saleyards?'

John had been her vet when Shara had originally rescued Rocko. He'd seen what a soul-destroyed horse he was – he'd even been bitten by him. John was one person who had some connection with her story and had seen the amazing job she had done with Rocko. If he went to the sales, it would diminish a lot of John's efforts too.

‘He took him to Blakely Downs, out past Longwood, to retire. It's a fifty-thousand-hectare property. Once they let him go, that'll be it. I won't see him again.'

John lifted his eyebrows. ‘I thought parents only ever
threatened
to do that sort of thing.'

‘Yeah, well, mine really did.' Shara felt a pain shoot through her chest. ‘So, don't get on my case, because someone else is already heavily on it.'

John drove in silence for a while longer. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and Shara saw his expression change. He continued past the road to her place without turning off.

‘Where are you going?'

‘To the surgery. I have to check on the colt.'

There were four extra-large stables at the back of John's surgery. The walls were made of grey concrete and the windows of heavy-duty steel mesh. They were more like prison cells than stables. But maybe that was what Goldie needed. The colt hung his head out the door, tossed his nose up and down and nickered when he saw Shara. A smile broke across her face. He was so utterly charismatic. She held out a hand and he thrust his velvet muzzle into it, nibbling at her palm and then licking it. Goldie had filled out even more since she had last seen him and she realised he was going to be quite a tall horse: as tall, if not taller, than Rocko. His gloriously thick mane was still a messy tangle and Shara realised she had never had the chance to brush it in between disasters.