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  ‘Money and possessions aren’t everything, Mum. Paul and I are just happy in each other’s company. We talk all the time—we don’t shut up.’ Amelia gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She was worried about living out there too, and about Paul’s stubbornness, but there was no way she’d admit it. ‘He makes me happy.’

  Natalie sniffed as she pulled the ice-cream from the freezer. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. And trust me, Milly, I know. I’ve been married to your father for thirty-two years. Things that I want or need always get put to the back burner because the farm always, always needs something. Even when there’s extra money around.’

  Amelia looked on, surprised, as Natalie’s eyes glistened and she plonked the ice-cream on the kitchen bench. She kept talking, but she was looking out the window, not at Amelia. Almost as though she was talking to herself.

  ‘Do you know how long I’ve wanted to add a patio on to the house? There’s money to do it, as you well know. But it just doesn’t happen. It isn’t a necessity. Somewhere between now and when I mention it to your father again, he’ll say we need a new tractor or wool press. The cattle yards might need doing up or a new bore will need to be sunk. It’s just the way it is.’

  Amelia nodded but didn’t know what to say, while Natalie finally turned to meet her eyes and kept talking.

  ‘When there are bad seasons and there’s even less money than usual, when the rains don’t come, or there’s too much of it and the crops look like failing, or the bottom drops out of the market, you need more than love. Men change. They get moody and withdrawn, and if you’re struggling to make ends meet anyway, then it will hit you quicker than the rest of us. You need strength of character, my girl, and I’m not sure you’ve got what it takes to be a farmer’s wife.’

  Amelia had listened with a newfound compassion for her mother, but that last statement was a hard one to swallow. She decided to ignore it for the moment, and take the opportunity to ask a question that had sprung to mind. ‘Mum, if you want a patio and can’t have one, but Graham is having the worker’s cottage done up, where is the money—and fairness, as far as that goes—coming from?’

  Natalie’s face closed up. She pulled out some bowls and started dishing up the ice-cream. ‘You’ll have to ask your father or brother about that. It really doesn’t have anything to do with you.’

  Chapter 10

  When the gates to the rodeo opened, Amelia’s stomach dropped. She was so nervous. All she kept thinking was: It’s finally here! Her hard work was about to be put to the test. Please don’t let me have forgotten anything.

  By the time the bull riding was underway, the compère was talking quickly into his microphone. Amelia, stuck in her little office, could imagine the men milling around the chutes. In her mind, a rider settled himself on the bull and waited breathlessly for the gate to open. There’d be a constantly shifting sea of large hats and high riding boots, a clown in loud coloured clothing, and bulls bucking in the ring.

  ‘Okay, ladies and gents, with a score of fifty-two points, competitor number thirty-two is about to ride Scorpion, the beautiful black bull from the south. This cowboy has made his preparations and is set to come out from chute number two . . .’ There was a pause while the boys opened the chute and the bull leapt into the ring.

  ‘Go bull, go rider . . .’ the compère’s deep voice took on an edge of excitement and Amelia walked towards the window to look out. She could only see glimpses of the ring, hats and a blur of movement as the men ran to follow the animal. ‘Oh, look out, he’s in trouble!’ shouted the announcer.

  She knew from the roar of the crowd that the rider had fallen, and now the clowns would be racing around to distract the bull. The rider would be scrambling to his feet and running to clamber over the steel rails on the edge of the ring. There was a collective gasp. Amelia’s heart sped up and she stood on tippy-toe, trying to see what was going on and groaning with frustration when she couldn’t.

  ‘Scorpion isn’t frightened of anything,’ the announcer’s voice called. ‘Run, you clowns!’

  Bored with seeing next to nothing, Amelia went back to her desk and kept on working, the rise and fall of the crowd’s noise as her soundtrack. Eventually there was a knock on the door, and she looked up to see Anne’s warm smile. She smiled broadly in return and got up to let Anne in. ‘Hi! Can you believe it’s just about finished?’

  ‘Lotta hard work and it’s all over in the flash of an eye,’ Anne agreed, walking into the room. Then she crossed her arms and looked annoyed.

  Oh great, what have I done? Amelia wondered.

  ‘Just dropped by to tell you that you won’t be able to rely on Will tonight as the extra escort. He’s been drinking.’ Anne shook her head, a disgusted expression on her face. ‘Sorry ’bout that, love. He’s normally the best of the three.’

  Amelia digested that and felt a thrill of anxiety run through her. ‘That’s okay, nothing wrong with having a drink or two at the rodeo,’ she managed. ‘I should’ve known Will wouldn’t want to be a designated driver tonight. Gus and I’ll be right.’

  ‘Bloody young idiots,’ Anne grumbled. ‘Got numbers through the gate?’

  Amelia brightened. ‘Yeah! Six thousand, three hundred and twenty-nine.’

  Anne let out a low whistle. ‘Well then, Amelia, the naysayers on the committee can put that in their pipe and smoke it. Most of that is down to you. Jim Green can choke on it. Good job, girl.’

  Not knowing what to say, Amelia flushed with pleasure—Anne wasn’t one to give out praise lightly.

  Then, glancing at her watch, Amelia saw it was almost midnight. ‘Better start to count all of this. Pretty sure that no one’s going to want any more change from me!’

  ‘Good idea. I reckon you’ll find the bar will start to bring their money over soon. Obviously you’ve got the gate takings?’

  ‘Yep, Fiona brought that over a while ago.’

  A cheer went up and both women turned to the window, craning their necks. The crunch of boots on the gravel outside drew their attention back to the office, and Cappa rapped at the door. ‘Anne, got a minute? I need a hand.’

  ‘Sure. Catch you later, Milly. You’ve done a bloody good job.’

  After they were gone, Amelia made sure the door was shut and locked. She drew the curtains, then sat down to count the money. Gus would soon turn up and they’d head into Torrica. Everything was going to plan.

  The rest of the night passed smoothly. She and Gus switched cars and loaded up the money bags. Then she drove off along the dark and winding road.

  Amelia stared, terrified, at the ute that had just cut her off. She kicked at her own brakes and reefed the wheel to the left, feeling the tyres leave the road for a few heart-stopping seconds. Then they crunched back down, off the bitumen, onto the loose scree and dirt, Amelia fighting for control as she rushed towards the cutting in the side of the hill.

  Luckily she’d managed to cut her speed so that the ute bumped rather than crashed, but it was enough for her to hit her head and bang her chest against the steering wheel. She thought she saw stars for a moment, then realised it was a torch at the passenger-side window. She tried to move, but her seatbelt kept her from getting far enough.

  The passenger’s door opened and the light was shone in her eyes. She threw up a hand to protect them and dropped the other to release the seatbelt. Her fighting instinct kicked in and she screamed in rage, swiping at the flashlight but hitting nothing but air. Then she turned to open her door and run away, but there was a torch shining there, too. No way out.

  Amelia heard one of the back doors open and smelt aftershave. Someone—a man, by the impression she got of bulk—started hauling the bags of money out, coins clinking together as they were shifted.

  ‘No, you bastards!’ She twisted around in her seat only to have the back of her head slapped none-too-gently. ‘Ugh.’ She rolled down her window and started to yell at the top of her lungs, in the hope someone, anyone, would hear.
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  ‘Bitch.’ The word was mumbled but she could tell the voice was male. He opened her door and hauled her out. There was another slap, this one across her face, before hands came out of nowhere and grabbed her. Why hadn’t she seen them? The thieves were dressed in black, she realised, invisible against the night. How many were there? Four or five?

  Her arms were roughly pulled behind her back and she was dragged towards the road. She took a great big lungful of air to yell again, but felt a hand against her mouth and hot breath on her ear as the man hissed for her to ‘Shut the fuck up!’

  She started to concentrate more on her surroundings. Her eyes still had the white burn of torches on them, but she could hear men at the ute, talking quietly as they worked. Whoever held her seemed like he would welcome the chance to hurt her; she could feel her lips grinding against her teeth, taste blood.

  Her fears were confirmed when he said, ‘One more peep, you stuck-up bitch, and I’ll break your neck.’

  He let her go, but only for a moment, then slipped a blindfold over her eyes and tied it too tight. He did the same with her hands, trussing them behind her back; her circulation slowed immediately.

  A man called, ‘Is that all?’

  ‘How many bags, bitch?’ the voice rumbled beside her ear.

  Amelia remained silent.

  He tugged on her bonds, hoisting her arms upwards. A moan of pain rose in her throat and was stifled. ‘I said, how many bags, bitch?’

  She could smell his sweat and his ragged breaths, but still said nothing.

  ‘Tear the fucking ute to pieces!’ her captor instructed the others.

  Terrified though she was, Amelia sensed that the man wasn’t concentrating fully on her. She lifted her right leg and brought the heel of her riding boot down hard. It connected with his foot and, despite her fear, she smiled as she heard the air leave his lungs. She twisted away and for a moment she was free. She tried to run, blindfolded, struggling to get loose from the bindings around her hands.

  The rope held. All too quickly she was grabbed and flung to the ground. ‘You stupid bitch!’

  Amelia curled into a ball, tensing for a blow. When it came, the air was pushed out of her lungs and she screamed. But her voice was cut off quickly as someone landed on top of her and smothered the noise. Trying to gasp for breath, but with an excruciating pain in her chest and the pressure of the man’s body on top of hers, she couldn’t get any air into her lungs. Panic flared within her stomach and she struggled, but once again the pain made her stop.

  Moments later, the body lifted off hers and she heard an engine start. Just leave, she pleaded in the quietness of her mind. They had what they wanted, surely. Gus, where are you? she thought, but she knew Pushme was probably still a long way behind, around a few bends. Or had they run him off the road too?

  Amelia tried to sit upright but was pushed over again. Obviously the man was standing near her—she just couldn’t see him. Hot tears stung her eyes, and that, plus the pain, just made her angry. ‘You won’t get away with this!’ she said breathlessly, hoping she sounded braver than she felt.

  He ignored her. ‘Where’s the rest of it? We know you’ve got more than that! You won’t like what happens if you don’t spill. Keeping some on the side, eh?’

  She recoiled as rough fingers grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled so hard the top buttons popped off. She bit her tongue, trying to take away the pain.

  ‘Where’s the rest of it?’ he asked again, low and menacing.

  Silence.

  ‘Where the fuck is the rest of it?’ he shouted.

  Her shirt received another tug and more buttons flew away. She pressed her lips into a cold, hard line to stop them quivering.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ another man said. She thought she recognised his voice and her mind went into overdrive, but she just couldn’t place it.

  Something pressed into her back, two sharp prongs, and she stiffened. There was an unfamiliar noise before she registered more pain. Her body convulsed. It felt as though a thousand volts were coursing through her. She couldn’t stop shaking, and it seemed forever before the pressure against her skin was removed.

  ‘What the fuck did you do that for? A bag slipped under the seat, that’s all.’

  Through the fug in her brain she thought she could hear them panicking.

  ‘You weren’t supposed to hurt her! She’s not going to like this.’

  ‘Have you got everything? Let’s get the fuck outta here.’

  Amelia lay on the ground, unable to make her muscles move. Her whole body was hurting, her head pounding, and her chest felt like it was going to burst. Glass smashed around her and car doors slammed. The gears crunched and tyres squealed when they shot back onto the bitumen, leaving her alone in the darkness.

  Chapter 11

  Dave sipped his coffee and smiled at Kim over the rim. It certainly wasn’t the uncomfortable morning-after that he’d worried it could be. He guessed that came from them being long-time friends—and former lovers. But even though he’d sort of hoped, he couldn’t have foreseen last night’s events. It must have been the country air and the smell of cattle and dust that had made him reckless.

  Kim shifted and her toes slid up his leg. He closed his eyes, remembering the sensations he’d thought were long dead. It appeared they were anything but.

  ‘More coffee?’

  The waitress hovered next to their table and Kim turned away, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Jackie, honey, you’ve asked that three times in as many minutes. Why not have some guts and ask the questions you really want to, or mind your own business?’ Kim smiled sweetly as Jackie’s face reddened and she hurried away.

  Dave’s grin widened. Kim was something else. In every way.

  ‘Gossips?’ he asked.

  ‘The very best,’ she confirmed. ‘And don’t you worry—’ she leaned over and rubbed his arm ‘—what she doesn’t know, she’ll make up, and it’ll be all over town before we walk out of here.’ She stopped and cast a furtive glance to the side. ‘In fact, if you look over at the door to the kitchen, the curtain will be parted ever-so-slightly and she’ll be looking through it.’

  Dave cut another piece of bacon, pushed it onto his fork with some egg and toast, and pulled his best policeman surveillance face. Casually he swung his eyes towards the kitchen—Kim was right. He wanted to laugh, but instead his mouthful of food caught in his throat and he coughed until he felt his face flush. Kim pushed back her chair and ran behind him, thumping him powerfully on the back.

  Jackie hurtled through the door. ‘Are you all right? Can I help?’

  Dave shook his head and tried to wave her away, while Kim continued to whack him. ‘Do you need mouth-to-mouth, sweetie?’ she asked loudly and cackled as Jackie’s eyes widened.

  He’d just about caught his breath as she said that, and it sent him off on another coughing fit—this time with a smile on his face. Then, recklessly, he reached up, grabbed Kim around the waist and pulled her to him, planting his lips on hers.

  A few moments later, he let her go. ‘That should give ’em something to talk about,’ he said, a cheeky grin playing around his lips.

  Kim put her shaky fingers to her mouth and blushed bright red. ‘I reckon it will.’ There was a pause. ‘More coffee?’ They both burst out laughing.

  Dave leaned back in his chair and looked at this wonderful woman, trying to work out his feelings. It wasn’t like him to jump into bed with someone—he’d have bedded a few women since his marriage breakdown if that was the case. And he’d been faithful to his wife for their twenty-odd years together. It hadn’t always been easy. While working for the stock squad in Western Australia, he’d spent many solitary nights away from home; it’d been lonely, no question. He’d missed Mel, and although he’d been in plenty of remote places where there weren’t many women, several had shown an interest. He’d always found the willpower to reject them.

  But the few weeks of romance he and Kim had share
d about thirty-five years ago had never left his memory. He’d wondered many times over the years, especially in hard times with Mel, if it would have worked; if he, at seventeen, hadn’t broken it off when he’d headed back to Western Australia. And through all this time, they’d stayed friends. He’d never understood why she hadn’t married, but from what she’d said to him last night, it seemed she’d just never found anyone she thought she could spend forever with.

  When Kim had organised to meet him at the rodeo, he’d been pleased. Pleased for the company and friendship, he’d told himself. Anything to stave off loneliness. She introduced him to people and he found himself holding court with four or five other blokes. It helped he hadn’t mentioned he was a cop, but maybe there was more to it than that. His daughters had told him he gave off an authoritarian air, and he’d been trying to shake that off. It seemed he was succeeding.

  Kim made him laugh with her down-to-earth observations and witty comments. It had been a long time since he’d done that without forcing it. Her face was animated and friendly, her eyes bright, and the curves she’d gained just added to the sexiness that radiated from her. Dave thought she was beautiful.

  When one of the riders fell underneath the hooves of a black bull and the rodeo clowns weren’t able to shift the animal’s attention for a few minutes, Kim gasped and turned her face into his chest. Dave’s arms automatically went around her in comfort or protection: he wasn’t sure which—maybe both. Much to his astonishment, that was where they stayed for the rest of the night. A few hurried kisses, followed by a few slow ones as they walked to the car park and lingered under the stars, had seen him invite her inside his motel room when they arrived back.

  Now here they were, having breakfast at the motel’s restaurant.

  Kim picked up a piece of toast and took a bite, just as a young woman came racing into the room, calling out, ‘Kim! Are you there, Kim?’

  ‘I’m here, Dani. Enjoying breakfast with this very sexy man.’