The Golden Stranger (10 page)

‘We'll have to get her to come closer so we can grab a piece of hair,' whispered Jess.

But the mare was cross-tied, a rope from either side of the truck holding her in the centre of the vehicle. ‘See if you can reach her tail,' Shara whispered back.

‘Move over.' Corey pulled out a pocket knife and reached in through the small window. He hacked at the lead rope until it gave way, falling below the mare's chin.

Shara let herself down and went around to the other side of the truck. Jess followed. ‘What's
he
doing here?' she hissed when they were out of earshot.

‘He's stalking me. Let's just get the hair and get out! Luke will be waiting for us!'

‘I sent him a message telling him how to get in,' whispered Jess.

They climbed up and peered in. Jess pulled gently at the rope, bringing the mare's head towards the window. The horse snorted in fear. Shara reached through the bars and, with a quick tug, plucked a strand of the mare's forelock. ‘Got it!'

The mare threw her head in the air and jumped backwards. Shara lost her footing and fell, banging her elbow on the way down and landing awkwardly on one knee. She writhed on the ground and silently cursed.

‘You okay?' Corey appeared beside her and crouched down on one heel, snickering.

‘It's not funny,' she hissed.

He chuckled and held out a hand to help her up.

Shara slapped it away and pulled herself upright. ‘Sadist.'

‘We need a photo,' whispered Jess, who still hung from the side of the truck.

‘Don't worry about me, I'll be fine,' grumbled Shara sarcastically.

‘Where's your camera?' asked Corey. ‘I'll get the photo.' He took the camera from her and hopped up onto the truck again.

A light came on in a caravan nearby, and Shara could hear a person moving about inside. A door swung open and she watched in horror as a wiry figure stood silhouetted against the yellow light.
‘Guys!'
she hissed.

The camera flashed and there was an explosion of drumming hooves inside the truck. Shara heard the mare's head smash against the roof. Corey leapt down from the window and promptly tripped over Shara, landing heavily beside her. She heard him stifle a laugh.

‘
HEY!
' a voice shouted. ‘Someone's stealing my horse!'

There was a screaming whinny, then shouting, lights snapping on, more lights, voices everywhere.

‘Oh,
crap
,' said Corey, his tone instantly changing. ‘It's Mark Conneman. Shara, get up and let's get out of here.' He put both hands under her arms and helped her scramble to her feet.

‘Quick, Sharsy!' said Jess, as she sprinted past.

‘Call security,' a voice yelled.

‘Stop them!' shouted another.

Blind panic overrode the burning pain that shot through Shara's knee at every step as she was dragged along behind Corey. People appeared from everywhere, dim silhouettes in the dark, until suddenly they were blocking the path. Corey stopped. He dropped her hand. They both stepped slowly backwards as they became encircled.

A hand grabbed the back of Shara's neck and she pulled her head into her shoulders, gasping. The stench of stale cigarette smoke hung all around her.

‘Let her go,' said Corey, spinning around. He looked at the person who gripped her by the neck, and held both hands up. ‘We were just mucking about, Graham – we didn't mean anything, just let her go.'

‘What do you want with my horse?'

‘Nothing, Graham, honestly.'

Shara clawed at the fingers gripping her neck. They were getting tighter. She could feel the blood pumping in her ears.

‘They've cut its lead rope.' Mark Conneman appeared from nowhere. He ran his eyes over Shara. ‘Who's she?'

‘Just a friend.' Corey kept stepping towards her, his eyes flashing from one brother to the other. Something about his face filled Shara with dread. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to breathe.

‘She's trouble,' said the voice behind the steely fingers.

People who had come out to look began backing away and disappearing, as though something was going to happen that they didn't want to witness.

‘She's with me, Graham.' Corey kept moving closer. ‘Don't hurt her.'

The grip on Shara's neck loosened ever so slightly and she took her chance. She struggled violently and made a dash for freedom, but felt her arm nearly pull out of its socket as she was grabbed again. ‘Where are you going, you little tart?'

Corey burst forward with a flying fist. It was so fast she didn't see it connect, but she heard a sickening crunch and the grip on her arm released.

Shara pitched backwards, arms flailing. ‘Corey,' she screamed.
‘Behind you!'

As if in slow motion, Corey turned to face the other Conneman, who swung his fist across Corey's jaw like a wrecking ball. Corey's head jerked backwards. He twisted and lurched, landing facedown on the ground with a thud.

Shara's scream was beyond her control. It tore through the darkness. Then the world went crazy around her.

‘Cops!' someone yelled, and the word seemed to make people scatter. The crowd changed. Some faces dissolved, and new ones appeared: good faces, concerned faces. They ran to Corey, who lay motionless on the ground. Shara followed them and knelt beside him. ‘Corey?'

Nothing.

‘What happened?' Luke panted.

‘We got busted.'

Luke rolled him over. ‘Corey, can you hear me?'

A groan gurgled from Corey's throat.

‘He needs an ambulance.'

‘Someone get St John's out here,' said a stranger.

Shara brushed the thick dark hair back from Corey's forehead. He groaned again.
‘Corey?'

Luke illuminated his phone screen and held it to Corey's face. Corey's eyes were closed and he drew short raspy breaths. ‘It's okay, mate,' said Luke. ‘Hang in there.'

Tears streamed down Shara's face. This wasn't meant to happen. Everything was going wrong. She bent forward. ‘Please be okay, Corey,' she whispered.

The next two hours were a blur. There were flashing lights and people in uniforms with a stretcher. There was the inside of the ambulance and two people leaning over Corey and speaking calmly to him. Then there were police. Jess and Luke were in the back of one of their cars.

Shara couldn't remember how she came to sit alone in a dingy, fluorescent-lit waiting room at a police station for hours. Someone passed her a phone, and she could hear her father's voice at the other end, but all she could do was cry. No one would tell her what was going on. More police were hovering around and Shara could have sworn she saw someone she vaguely recognised talking to them. Eventually her mother and father arrived and shot anxious questions at her faster than she could answer. Later, she fell asleep against her father's shoulder. When she woke, he was standing at a counter filling out forms. The next thing she knew, she was being tucked into bed.

‘Is Corey going to be okay?'

‘Sshh, just go to sleep now, honey. We'll talk in the morning.'

12

THE TENSION IN
the house the next morning was excruciating. No one spoke. Her father made slow, deliberate movements around the kitchen while her mother sat at the table with her arms folded. One minute Shara was sitting still, chewing slowly, uncertainly, on her toast, and the next her father exploded.

‘What the
heck
is going on, Shara? Do you have
any
idea what it is like to be rung up by the police at ten o'clock at night and told that your daughter is in Brisbane at a police station? Why on earth were you trying to steal a horse?'

‘We weren't trying to steal it, we just—'

‘Oh, come
on
!' said Louise. ‘They found a pocket knife in the truck with Corey Duggin's name on it, for God's sake. You had that horse's halter half off. How else did that Duggin boy get kicked by a horse?'

‘What? What did you say?' said Shara, incredulous. Her head throbbed. ‘Corey didn't get kicked by a horse. He—'

‘Enough of your lies,' her father bellowed. ‘That kid is trouble, Shara. I don't care if he's John Duggin's boy. I don't want you anywhere near him.'

‘But, you've got to believe me. He was—'

‘Believe you? After that story about the 3D movie you could only see in Brisbane? You have
got
to be joking! I don't want to hear another word from you. I can't stand the lies.'

‘Dad, they . . . ' Shara tried desperately to get her story out but it fell on deaf ears. She looked at her mum and burst into tears. ‘You guys don't even care what the truth is!'

She knew she had chosen the wrong words before they even left her mouth. Her father thumped his fist on the kitchen bench so hard that the apples jumped about in the fruit bowl.

‘Don't care? How
dare
you?' he roared. ‘We give you everything. We drive two hours to Brisbane and sit in a police station all night. We let you bring home a rogue colt, which, by the way, will be on a truck back to the shelter this afternoon, and
we
don't care?'

‘Corey was looking after me, Dad.' It was true. He had done everything he could to keep her out of trouble. Everything was all wrong.

‘Save it for the police, Shara,' said Louise. ‘They'll be here at nine.' She got up and left the room. Barry followed, slamming the door after him.

At five to nine Shara was sitting in the lounge room next to her mother, frozen, staring at the frayed edges of the Persian rug. The washing machine hummed through the floorboards. A thick blanket of sadness suffocated her, sapping her energy.

Barry showed a police officer through the door. It wasn't Sergeant Bigwood. This man was middle-aged, stocky, with greying hair. Behind him was a woman, about the same age. Both had grave expressions on their faces.

Louise motioned for them to sit down. The policeman pulled out a notepad and began taking notes, asking for Shara's full name and various other details. Then he asked her what happened. He listened silently as Shara spoke in a monotone until she got to the part where Corey was hurt in the fight, and started crying again.

Then it was the female officer's turn. She talked to Shara about breaking and entering, and outlined the problems with vigilante justice. She described the juvenile justice system, criminal records and anything else she could think of to thoroughly put the wind up not just Shara, but her parents as well. She wasn't unpleasant. She wasn't heavy. She sounded more like a school counsellor than a police officer. Everything she said was true and, worse, it made sense. As she spoke, Shara kept her eyes fixed firmly on the fraying rug. The washing machine reached spin cycle and the floor vibrated even faster.

Her parents said nothing through the whole interview. They didn't stick up for her at all.

When the police finally left she managed to escape to her room, where she sat in a daze of confused and whirling thoughts. How had Jess and Luke got home last night? Were they okay? Was Corey okay? There would be no point sending Jess a text or trying to ring her. Her parents would have confiscated her phone for sure – it was always the first thing to go when she got in trouble. Instead, Shara sent Luke a text message, asking if he had heard any news about Corey.

Outside she heard her father's four-wheel drive back up to the horse float and moments later the sounds of hooves up a tailgate. Shara rushed to the window and saw Rocko's big brown rump move up into the float and take its place next to Goldie's.

‘Oh my God, no!'

A sense of absolute panic overwhelmed her. She threw her phone aside, raced out the door and ran down the hallway as if her life depended on it, screaming, ‘Dad! Dad! No!' She hurled herself down the back steps, sobbing. ‘I'm sorry!'

Her father clinched the handles on the tailgate without looking at her. He walked to the car, opened the door and got in. The engine started and the float rolled down the driveway.

For a brief moment the world took on perfect clarity. She registered the breeze on her face; the sound of distant bird calls and a passenger train rumbling along somewhere lower in the valley; everything was as it should be. And then her voice ripped through the middle of it all, begging and sobbing as she stood in the driveway, hands over her face. She felt her mother's arm around her.

‘Where's he taken them, Mum? Please ask him to bring them back. Please, Mum.'

Her mother spoke gently but firmly. ‘Goldie's going back to the animal shelter, and your father's taking Rocko out to Blakely Downs.'

‘Blakely Downs!' choked Shara. Blakely Downs was a huge cattle station more than ten hours' drive away. ‘That's fifty thousand hectares! I'll never see him again!'

‘Your father warned you, Shara.' Her mum's voice was cold.