Emerald Springs E-Book

Fleur McDonald

• Herausgeber: Allen & Unwin
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 488

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

After finishing university, Amelia Bennett returns to her home town. Determined to lose her old reputation for being scatty, she works hard to prove herself as the treasurer of the local rodeo committee. Flushed with triumph on the evening of the best rodeo in the town's history, Amelia is driving the bags of cash into town when she becomes the victim of a terrifying smash and grab. Injured and distraught after her ordeal, she's even more devastated when she finds out that she and her boyfriend Paul are in the frame for the crime. To prove her innocence and that of the man she loves, Amelia must convince a sceptical detective that her account of what happened does add up and that he must help her track down the real culprits... With its cracker plot, feisty heroine and engaging love story, Emerald Springs will have you reading well into the night.

Leseprobe

For the people in my life who have always held me up. I’m thankful your hands are so strong.

First published in 2015

Copyright © Fleur McDonald 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

Arena Books, an imprint of

Allen & Unwin

83 Alexander Street

Crows Nest NSW 2065

Australia

Phone: [phone]

Email: [email protected]

Web: www.allenandunwin.com/uk

Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available from the National Library of Australia

www.trove.nla.gov.au

Paperback ISBN 978 1 76029 253 9

E-book ISBN 978 1 92557 589 7

Typeset by Post Pre-press Group, Australia

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Preview: Indigo Storm - Chapter 1

Preview: Indigo Storm - Chapter 2

Prologue

Amelia took a deep breath, squeezed the keys in her hand and scanned the rodeo grounds. The squares of light from the atco hut windows didn’t stretch far, and she was very aware that the shadows could hide anything or anyone; her hands shook a little at the thought. A moment more to calm her nerves, then she slid a key into the lock and pulled open the door to the treasurer’s office.

She stood on the threshold, listening intently, checking that no one had snuck inside. Pale yellow light flooded the simple room: a couple of desks and chairs, filing cabinets, the trestle table where she’d stacked left-over promotional flyers, and the rickety stand where the old electric kettle sat beside teabags, coffee sachets and a mismatched set of chipped cups. Around the walls were posters of Torrica rodeos past: some faded, some still vibrant. And there, on the floor beside her desk, sat the bags, plain sand-coloured calico, Torrica Rodeo Committee printed on them in blue.

A round of drunken shouts and laughter rang out, then died away. It sounded close, but the camping grounds were about a kilometre from the ring. Noise travelled a long way on still nights.

Amelia wished the powerful towered spotlights that had shone down an hour earlier hadn’t been switched off. She hefted two of the bags, her breathing shallow, a tremor running through her. Was it fear, exhilaration or anxiety? Maybe all three.

Outside, she briefly put the sacks down to lock the door. Walking quickly, she crossed the gravel to where her ancient car was parked. Fond though she was of Pushme the Mazda hatchback, she was regretting not accepting Paul’s offer of his ute for the weekend. Pushme was getting less able to meet the demands placed on her.

Pausing as another lot of raucous yelling reached her, Amelia glanced around once more, acutely conscious of the huge amount of money in the bags. ‘Come on, Gus, where are you?’ she muttered, unlocking the back passenger-side door, lowering the bags onto the floor, then relocking.

When she’d been given the job of treasurer, she’d never thought about having to transport the whole of the organisation’s takings to the bank’s night safe in town. In the middle of the night. With only one escort, who should have showed up by now.

Amelia collected two more bags from the office and dumped them in Pushme. As she headed back for more, she heard the shouts of men and clatter of hooves on steel as a truck was loaded up with cattle. It was a comforting sound.

Then the crunch of tyres on gravel made her jump a couple of feet. A brand-new ute pulled up beside Pushme. Amelia held her breath.

‘How you going tonight, Milly?’ the president of the rodeo committee called as he got out and walked towards her.

‘Gus!’ she said, with a mixture of relief and annoyance.

He was about the same age as her dad, in his mid-fifties, his face weathered by the sun and wind. Never seen without his tattered hat and large belt buckle, he radiated dependability—and he had been one of her biggest allies on the committee.

‘Who else would it be?’ he said. ‘Sorry I was late—got held up at the last minute. Scare you, did I?’

‘Let’s just say it was almost a job for the brown trousers.’ She grinned, relaxing. ‘Sorry, just a bit nervous with all the loot. Can’t say I’ve ever seen four hundred k in one place before, let alone in my own car.’

Gus whistled. ‘Four hundred k? That’s a record for this little rodeo.’

‘Up thirty per cent on last year,’ said Amelia proudly. That would show ’em, everyone who’d given her sly looks, waiting for her to stuff up. Jim Green and Kevin Hubble in particular.

‘Committee should be happy with that.’ He paused before adding, ‘You’ve done a great job in such a short time.’

‘I hope so,’ she answered, unlocking and pulling open the office door. ‘I certainly had something to prove, didn’t I?’

Without waiting for a reply, she stepped inside. Gus came in behind her and they grabbed the last four bags. Amelia gave the room a once-over, then nodded with satisfaction before turning off the lights and locking the door.

While she was happy to see Gus, the weight of responsibility hadn’t completely lifted. She wished she’d been able to organise one other escort—even just her bossy older brother, Graham—so that her car could be flanked by two other vehicles. Too late now, Milly, she thought, and squared her shoulders, picking up the heavy bags. She turned around to see Gus kicking at the dirt, clearly anxious to get going, and said, ‘Sorry, am I holding you up?’

‘I just don’t want to be gone from the grounds for too long. If something goes wrong, it’s on my shoulders.’

She nodded and strode towards the cars, calling, ‘Right-o, let’s go.’ It wasn’t that far into town. Nothing could go wrong. Well, unless Pushme broke down . . .

‘Do you want me to drive in front or behind?’ Gus asked.

‘Um, oh, I’m not sure. What do you usually do?’ Amelia glanced around again.

Gus must have picked up on her nervousness, because he gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I’ve just had a thought,’ he said. ‘Why don’t we stick the bags in my ute, and you drive that? Just in case. I’ll follow in Pushme. If I break down, you can pick me up and we won’t have to transfer the money by the side of the road.’

It was as though he’d read her mind. ‘All right, that sounds like a bloody good idea.’ Amelia smiled up at him, her heart-rate slowing.

They worked quickly, putting the four bags in his ute and swapping the others over. Then Amelia grabbed her jacket from Pushme’s passenger seat while surreptitiously tucking something into its pocket: a can of Bundy and Cola, to be enjoyed back in town. It was completely innocent—her version of a bottle of champagne—but she still hoped Gus hadn’t noticed it.

She waved and smiled at Gus, then slid into the driver’s seat of his ute. Feeling silly, she glanced over her shoulder at the bags on the back passenger-side floor—as though they could have disappeared while her back was turned! She took a look around inside the ute. ‘Wow, pretty flash,’ she whispered, before carefully turning the key in the ignition.

Testing the clutch and accelerator, Amelia drove out of the showground gates and onto the dark road, trying to get a feel for the ute. Gus followed close behind. She gave a huge sigh. ‘Let’s go.’ Her voice came out high-pitched and nervous as she pushed her foot down on the accelerator. The vehicle shot away and she let her foot up. Fortunately she could still see Pushme’s headlights, and she waited until they brightened. Then she cursed herself: why hadn’t she thought to hire two-way radios? They wouldn’t have mobile phone reception going through the hills. One day she’d learn to think ahead. One day.

‘Bloody hell, bloody hell.’ She’d entered the winding range road and there was no moon to cast its eerie light across the landscape. It was just dark, dark and more darkness. She checked for headlights behind her. Still there.

She was bone-weary, and as she leaned forward, peering into the obscurity, the tension in her neck pulled tight. The headache that had been threatening for the last few hours rolled in full force. All you’ve got to do, she told herself, is get this money safely to Torrica. Only a few more k’s.

Rounding a bend, she glanced in the rear-view mirror and couldn’t see Gus’s lights. Looking down at the dimly lit dashboard, she realised she was travelling way above the speed limit. ‘Whoops!’ Once again she lifted her foot from the accelerator. It took a couple of minutes before the lights reappeared.

‘Oh thank God.’ Amelia’s breath whooshed out and she rolled her shoulders and neck, trying to ease the tightness. Her gaze strayed to the passenger’s seat where the Bundy and Cola was nestled in her jacket pocket. ‘I can’t wait to crack you,’ she told the can, then returned her attention to the road and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Her eyes swept back and forth, alert for kangaroos and any other wildlife.

Soon she began to relax. ‘Ten more minutes and it will all be over,’ she whispered. ‘Over.’ She sighed and flicked a glance back to the money bags. Then, making a swift decision, she reached over and tugged the condensation-damp can from her jacket. ‘We’re just about there, and you, my friend, are all mine.’

The snap of the ring-pull was loud in the ute, and the first sip went down smooth as silk. Amelia felt a warm buzz creep through her as she took a gulp. A beeping sounded and she froze, before looking down to check all the alerts on the dash. Holy cow, well and truly over the speed limit! There was no way Pushme could keep up with a hundred and thirty. Better just chug along at eighty, until Gus catches up. Amelia crept along, casting frequent glances in the rear-view, until she noticed pinpricks of light. ‘Ah, there he is.’ She kept her speed down.

The lights grew closer and closer. That was strange—she wasn’t going that slowly. A shiver went down her spine. Then she realised it was probably one of the trucks loaded up with cattle from the rodeo. Stop being silly. She put the can in a drink holder, thinking how different it was to the one in her car that was cluttered with bunches of coins, loose rubber bands and scraps of paper. How much nicer.

Then her breath caught in her throat.

The vehicle behind her was moving so quickly, it seemed to eat the night. It certainly wasn’t a truck.

‘What the hell?’

It closed in until there were only metres between the vehicles, then the driver flipped its lights onto high beam. With shaking hands, Amelia tipped up her mirror to take the glare away. Her throat felt as if it was closing over. Every bit of foreboding she’d experienced earlier returned. What could she do? She gripped the wheel, her knuckles white and posture rigid, staring at the road ahead.

She hoped that the vehicle would pass her and race off into the darkness. Just some idiot anxious to get home. She saw a flash of orange and realised it was an indicator. The vehicle—it was a ute, she thought, a big one, highset, a dark colour, with tinted windows—was pulling out to overtake. She started to breathe a little easier, her shoulders relaxing . . .

. . . until the other ute veered straight in front of her, cutting her off and hitting the brakes.

Chapter 1

Two months earlier

Gus thumped the table with his fist, trying to get everyone’s attention. The rodeo committee members were standing around having a chat, making cups of tea and coffee, and grabbing at the biscuits that his wife, Pip, had made.

It’s like pulling teeth, he thought wearily, then yelled, ‘Come on, you lot, let’s get this meeting underway so we can all get home.’

The gathering that settled in front of him, with much rattling of cups and spoons, was a sea of greying hair, dirty hats, denim jeans and coloured shirts, calloused hands and sun-reddened, deeply lined faces. Amelia Bennett, in her mid-twenties, was the only committee member under forty, and she was the first in years.

Well, that wasn’t surprising. Agricultural areas were dying out. There were easier lives to be had and many parents sent their kids away from home: apart from anything else, there were no secondary schools out Torrica way. Few of the kids returned, and most were more interested in attending the rodeo nights than in helping to organise them. That wasn’t surprising either—the local show was just about non-existent because no one was prepared to take it on. And when a rare youngster did show up at the committee, they weren’t given anything to do because they wouldn’t do it the way the oldies wanted.

But, Gus thought with an inkling of pride, this crew hadn’t frightened Amelia away. Then he looked for her wavy dark brown hair and frowned. Every head was sprouting strands of grey—Amelia wasn’t there. He suppressed a sigh; she’d probably forgotten again. Hopefully she was just running late.

‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’m calling this meeting of the Torrica Rodeo Committee to order.’ He shuffled the agenda papers and looked across at the secretary. ‘Cappa, you want to read the minutes from the last meeting?’

Cappa, with his vein-webbed nose and bushy brows, cleared his throat and stood, pushing his hat back. In his methodical drawl, he went through the minutes, then asked for a seconder. Fiona, her silver hair tightly curled from the day’s visit to the hairdresser, put up her hand. Gus hid a smirk. You could count on her to second everything. Pip reckoned Fiona just liked to see her name in print.

‘Right, new business,’ Gus said before there was another outbreak of voices. ‘I guess you all know that Ruby has had to resign because of her cancer treatments?’

There were nods and murmurings. Pip moved to send Ruby a card and some flowers, and everyone agreed right away—even Jim Green, who wasn’t always the easiest bloke to deal with. Their sense of community and friendship was sostrong, Gus thought. If only there were some younger people here, it would be perfect.

‘Right-o then,’ he said, when the banter had settled down, ‘we need a new treasurer. Anyone want the job?’

The room went silent. No one made eye contact.

‘Come on, someone has to take it on.’

Everyone was staring at their hands or the floor.

All right, Gus thought, it’s now or never. ‘What about Amelia Bennett?’

‘Good one!’ said Jim Green with a smirk, then saw Gus’s expression. ‘Oh no, you can’t be serious. She’s much too flighty.’ He reddened, head swivelling from side to side. He’d clearly just realised that Amelia might be in the room. ‘Where is she? Not here? Well, that’s a good reason to get her to do the job,’ he finished sarcastically.

Right from the moment Amelia walked into the farmhouse, she knew that Paul had something important to say. The kitchen table, usually bare, had an embroidered tablecloth thrown across it. Two places were set with pristine blue-and-white Willow pattern china and engraved cutlery she’d never seen before. Velvet red roses—just like the ones her grandma used to grow at her family’s farm, Granite Ridge—were on the bench in a big old coffee jar from the seventies. There’d be an orange lid lying around somewhere.

‘Hey,’ Amelia said, smiling at Paul and leaning in for a kiss. His gorgeous eyes, blue flecked with gold, seemed darker than usual. ‘This looks impressive!’

As his fingers rested on her cheek and he looked down at her face, Paul didn’t quite meet her gaze. She couldn’t work out if the news was going to be good or bad, but he was clearly steeling himself.

‘You want to eat or talk first?’ he asked. ‘I’ve got some steak to cook up on the barbie and a salad to toss. Won’t take long—’

‘Talk first.’

‘All right.’ He stepped away from her and took a breath. ‘The trouble is—and I know this sounds corny—I can’t get you out of my mind. I really can’t.’

She gave a playful laugh and raised her eyebrows suggestively. ‘That’s not a bad thing.’

‘Listen, I’m serious,’ he pleaded. ‘I don’t want to let you get away.’

‘Get away?’ She eyed him severely. ‘I’m not one of your dogs that you chain on the back of the ute.’

‘Shit. I’m stuffing it up.’ Red-faced, he looked at the floor. Then he raised his head and met her eyes with an intensity Amelia had never seen before. ‘I want to ask you to marry me, Milly.’

Her heartbeat sped up, an involuntary smile spreading across her face. Though they’d been going out for a little over a year and things were going well, she hadn’t seen this coming.

‘But I don’t have anything,’ Paul continued. ‘I can’t afford a ring. This place isn’t a house—it’s a bloody shack.’ He swept his arm around, gesturing to the kitchen cupboards without doors, the fridge with more rust stains than white enamel, the woodstove that needed a tonne of kero to get started, the peeling paint . . . all signs of his late father’s neglect. ‘I couldn’t expect you to live here, share it with the mice and cockroaches. I’m up to my eyes in debt and I can’t afford to fix anything.’

‘Honey—’

‘Let me finish now or I’ll never be able to say this again.’ Paul took her hands and pumped them up and down, as though trying to release his frustration. ‘I’ve got nothing to offer. Dad left it all in such a mess it’s going to take me years to get back on track. By then, you’ll have had enough of waiting.’

Warmth rushed over Amelia as she looked at his deeply tanned face, the dark blue eyes. The anguish there was clear, but she didn’t know how to make it go away.

‘Oh,’ was all she managed.

Paul let her go and walked to the kitchen door, open to let in a cool breeze. There was no flyscreen, another thing the place needed. Looking over his shoulder, Amelia could see the moon rising, its soft light touching the land. She tried to organise her thoughts while the silence stretched out around them and grew uncomfortable.

The house was crumbling, there were no two ways about that. Wind whistled through the gaps around the windows in winter. Paul had to boil hot water on the stove for the dishes and the toilet was outside. Amelia made a point of going to the loo before she arrived and straight after she left.

Paul’s father, Old Brian Barnes, had certainly left him in an awkward situation when he’d died. It was a miracle Paul had been able to convince the bank not to hold a mortgagee sale. All the time Amelia had known him, he’d been working his backside off just to make ends meet.

She walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. When he turned around, she stared into his face. His eyes were filled with concern and his handsome features were strained.

‘You’re not going to lose me,’ she said and smiled. ‘Idiot.’

He went still as he looked at her.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she whispered. ‘We’ll make it work somehow. I don’t need a ring or a flash house. You’ve got me wrong if you think I want all of that stuff. I just need you.’

He stared at her, disbelieving.

‘True,’ she affirmed. ‘Of course, if you’re going to be speechless every time something significant happens . . .’

He blushed and grinned, then pulled her to him. He didn’t kiss her, just held her close. ‘So, you’ll marry me?’

She gave a muffled laugh against his shoulder. ‘Well, we have to get an indoor toilet before I move in. I’ll take that over an engagement ring any day!’

Paul chuckled. ‘I think that’s fair. But there’ll be a ring, I promise. One day, there’ll be a ring.’

‘Hmm, never thought you were so romantic!’ She let him go, laughing.

He pulled her back and kissed her. ‘I didn’t either,’ he admitted. He smiled down at her, then said, ‘So, you want to wait before we get officially engaged, or tell everyone now?’

‘Let’s keep it between us for the time being. Though I’m not into long engagements. And . . .’ She twirled around. ‘How about we make some plans? A lick of paint here, a bit of no-more-gaps there . . .’ She was smiling, but then she stopped at the look on his face. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Milly, you don’t get it. Hopefully in the next few months I’ll be able to get that toilet in, but there’s absolutely no money right now. Not even enough for a sack of cement.’

‘Doesn’t mean I can’t pay for things.’

‘No way, Amelia. No way.’ Paul shook his head firmly. ‘I’m the provider. I’ll make a home for you. You’re not going to spend your money on this joint.’

What? She frowned. ‘Don’t be ridiculous—we don’t live in the Dark Ages. I’ve got money set aside and if I’m going to live here, then what does it matter if I put some of it into the house? After all, we’ll get to be together quicker. And don’t pull all that macho “I’m the bloke” bullshit with me! You know I’m not a little woman.’

He took a breath. ‘Milly, I’m serious. It’s not a matter of me being stubborn, it’s . . . it’s a matter of pride. Look, I had no say in how Dad ran this place into the ground. I had to stand by and watch what he did. I need to get this house right for you, for me, for us. I have to do it myself.’ He looked at her, his eyes begging her to understand. ‘Don’t worry, though. I’ll make it work.’

Amelia stared at him for a long moment. In some ways, he was right: he needed to fix up his childhood home for his own self-respect. She also knew that when he was like this, he couldn’t be swayed overnight.

‘Okay then,’ she said lightly. She reckoned she’d be able to wear him down eventually, at least on a few things.

Gus was trying hard not to lose his temper. Bloody hell, these old bludgers could be so stubborn! ‘We need to face facts,’ he said. ‘No one here wants to take on the job and we need a treasurer. It’s time we let a younger person have a go. We’re not gonna be here forever, you know.’ Gus sat back and crossed his arms.

The room erupted.

‘I reckon that’s a really bad idea!’

‘She’s a nice girl, but . . .’

‘What about the time she lost little Henry Marshall?’

Suddenly people who couldn’t remember where they were last week were able to recall Amelia’s stuff-ups from years ago.

‘Well, boys and girls, the simple fact is that no one else is puttin’ their hand up.’

‘I think she’d be good at it,’ Pip said firmly. All heads turned to her. ‘Sure, she can be a bit flighty, but she has a kind heart and a big one. You saw the sort of passion she brought to her first meeting, all her dreams and hopes to make this year’s the biggest and best rodeo we’ve had for a long time. She started that Facepage, or whatever you call it, and—’

‘Well, why isn’t she here now?’ Jim cut in. ‘She send her apologies?’

A few people nodded their heads.

‘No, she didn’t, but we’ve all been guilty of that,’ Gus said. ‘Won’t give her life because of it.’

‘I think it’s a good idea, too,’ Fiona said quietly.

‘Do you?’ snapped Kev Hubble, Jim’s best mate. ‘Well, when the till won’t balance you can put the money in to fix it.’

‘Enough!’ Gus banged his fist down on the table. ‘Kev, that’s a bit harsh, mate.’

Cappa stood up, cleared his throat and spoke in his usual ponderous way. ‘Why give Amelia such a responsible position? It’s nothing against her personally, but she should work her way up to something like that. You have to understand the job before you take it on.’

‘That’s right,’ Jim thundered. ‘You can’t just roll in and be treasurer.’

‘I don’t see you volunteering,’ Fiona said, a surprising amount of heat in her voice. ‘You’re the reason this rodeo is going to die. You’re a stupid man, Jim Green.’

Uproar broke out and it took Gus a few minutes to settle everyone down.

A thin, wiry lady, with soft grey curls to her shoulders, got to her feet. Anne Andrews had been silent throughout the debate. Pushing her glasses back onto her nose, she opened her mouth. ‘You lot should listen to yourselves. Do you really think Amelia would be in this position by herself? Of course not!’ She shook her head. ‘She’d be doing it with our help, our support, which we should be happy to give. We can train her. Get her doing things the way we like them done.’

‘But—’ started Jim, and found himself silenced by the finger Anne pointed at him. She didn’t talk too often, but when she did people listened.

‘And what if she says no?’ Anne continued. ‘Where’s that going to leave us as a functioning rodeo committee? I tell you: up shit creek without a paddle. You all seem to be forgetting something. Amelia runs her own bookkeeping business. She does my farm books and a few others around the traps. She has a degree in commerce, for crying out loud.’ Anne strode to the front of the room and faced them. ‘A young, passionate person is just what this role needs. I say we give her a crack at it. Go on.’ Through narrowed eyes, Anne peered at the stunned committee and said, ‘I dare you,’ then went back to her seat with purposeful steps.

Good job, thought Gus. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘I move that we nominate Amelia Bennett as our committee treasurer.’

As she drove up through the hills, Amelia glanced over the countryside. The moon was nearly full and the white glow it cast gave her goosebumps. She pulled Pushme off the road, killed the engine and got out.

Sitting on the bonnet of the car, she let her eyes roam the shadowy, bluish landscape. It was a nice change from how brown everything was in the daylight. March had been unusually warm. The bush was parched and waiting for those opening rains to sweep up from the sea.

Amelia heard a sharp bark in the distance, then sheep murmuring and the thud of hoofs as they bolted. The fox must have been looking for something to eat.

Turning her thoughts back to Paul, she tried to understand his need to provide for her. She sort of could, but it was still frustrating as hell. She was independent. The office work she did for her parents and other farmers around the district gave her an income, and she’d be happy to put her small savings into something she knew would be hers forever. Hers and Paul’s.

Smiling to herself, Amelia hugged her knees as she replayed the night in her mind. His words, his touch, his love. From their first date, she’d been so comfortable with him. He didn’t label her: with him she wasn’t John and Natalie’s little girl, or Graham’s scatty sister. Paul just loved her as Amelia Bennett. She knew they’d have a great life together—she just wanted it to start sooner rather than later.

Thinking about Paul made her warm all over. She remembered the night they’d met, thrown together on bar duty at the local agricultural show. Despite the continual orders for beers, they’d introduced themselves, chatted and laughed. At the end of the shift, Paul had asked if she wanted to watch the fireworks with him.

Of course she had. She loved fireworks, and she didn’t mind spending more time with this handsome stranger. But Paul didn’t take her to the edge of the oval where everyone always sat. Instead, he put his big, warm hand on her waist and guided her up into the tumbledown grandstand that no one was supposed to use.

She whispered, ‘Are we allowed up here?’

Paul shook his head and grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I know where to put my feet. Just stay with me and we won’t fall through.’

After some giggling and stumbling, they settled down with a perfect view. As Amelia watched the fireworks, she felt like she was at the back of a movie theatre. She snuck sideways glances at Paul while colourful sparks reflected over his face and shone in his eyes. A spiderweb had attached itself to his brown hair and she wanted to brush it away.

He caught her glancing at him and—he told her later—couldn’t pull his eyes away from hers. He put his hand to her face, pushed her dark brown hair back and gathered it at the nape of her neck, the whole time drinking her in.

Then they kissed.

And they’d been together ever since, mostly spending time at his farm, Eastern Edge. They avoided Granite Ridge. Natalie had a set against Paul’s family that came from Old Brian’s drunken exploits and some inappropriate comments he’d made over the bar one night. She’d mentioned, more than once, that the Barnes family seemed ‘exceptionally common’. But that didn’t worry Amelia too much—she was used to her mother’s disapproval.

At least there was one family member who accepted Paul. That was Amelia’s Aunty Kim, her mum’s sister and polar opposite in both appearance and personality. A curvaceous lady, with long, curly dark hair that fell down her back, a wide smile and a ready laugh, Kim was an unmarried businesswoman who ran the most popular roadhouse in the district. She’d been looking out for Amelia all her life, so if anyone would be happy for her and Paul, it would be Kim.

Sighing happily, Amelia let the future tumble around in her thoughts. The gains they could make on the farm, working together. Kids!

Wait, kids? She shook her head. Maybe that was getting a bit too far ahead.

In the back of her mind, something niggled. It was going to take a long time to make Eastern Edge profitable. If Paul was really going to be as stubborn as he appeared, it would be years before they could achieve anything. She’d be getting fitted for a wedding dress and a coffin around the same time. Her brow wrinkled.

On the breeze she caught the smell of eucalyptus and her frown turned to a smile. These sorts of nights were her favourite: she felt like dreams and wishes could come true. Tossing her head back, she stared at the stars until they blurred.

Then she realised something else was bothering her, lurking in her memory.

‘Oh damn!’ She jumped off the car and yanked open the door, then grabbed her phone from the charger and opened the diary app.

Rodeo committee meeting 7pm was typed under the day’s date, with lots of exclamation marks. She checked the time on her watch. Ten o’clock. Too late now. ‘Bugger, bugger, bugger!’ Even too late to ring and apologise.

‘When will you ever learn?’ she muttered, all her happiness gone. She’d been wanting to make a good impression ever since she’d returned to town, yet no matter how hard she tried, she seemed to stuff something up at least once a week.

Fancy forgetting the rodeo meeting of all things! It was an event that she’d worked tirelessly for.

But that’s just me, isn’t it? she thought bitterly.

‘Ah, our Milly,’ she could hear her mother fondly saying to other parents when she was in primary school. ‘Heart as big as a road-train. Such a kind girl. Such good intentions.’ The but was always there, though. ‘But she’d forget her head if it wasn’t screwed on.’ Then Natalie would pat her daughter’s hair and smile, and Amelia’s embarrassment would swell. The worst thing was, her mother seemed to be right.

Even now, after getting her degree and starting her business, Amelia had Post-it notes all around her bedroom, reminders of things she had to do. In Pushme, there were notes in yellow, blue, green and purple stuck to the dash. Her brain was always rushing; it would tick over and she’d jot something else down as she drove. She wanted to improve everything she was involved with. The trouble was, she had so many whirring thoughts that she tended to forget some of them.

As if on cue, Amelia’s phone rang. She stared at the screen for a long moment before answering. ‘Hi, Gus, I’m so sorry . . .’ she began.

‘Forgot, didn’t you, Amelia?’ he asked kindly. She could hear the laughter in his voice.

‘Yeah. Paul invited me out to the farm for tea, and I didn’t check my diary.’

‘Not to worry. We would have had to ask you to leave anyway.’

‘What?’ Butterflies shot through her stomach. ‘Just because I missed one meeting?’

‘Because you were the point of discussion.’

‘Oh no! What did I do wrong?’

‘Now why would you ask that? Would you like the job as treasurer?’

Stunned, Amelia said nothing, her mouth moving as if she was a fish on dry land.

‘You there? Hello?’ Gus shouted into the landline. ‘Damn mobiles,’ he muttered. ‘Hello?’

‘I’m here,’ Amelia finally answered. A smile had found its way back to her lips. ‘I’m here! Are you sure?’

‘Yep. What do you reckon?’

‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were messing with me!’

‘Can you do it?’

‘Of course,’ she answered indignantly.

‘Well then, the job’s yours. See you tomorrow morning,’ Gus said, matter-of-factly. ‘And, Amelia?’

‘Yeah, Gus?’

‘Try to remember where the office is.’

Amelia could hear him laughing as he hung up. She was so happy she didn’t even care. She hit Paul’s name in the contacts—she had to tell someone her news.

Chapter 2

Amelia rolled over and checked the bedside clock.

Five-thirty a.m. Friday. The rodeo was a week and one day away.

Through the wall she heard her father’s muffled voice, a sure sign that the house was about to wake. That meant time for her run.

She rolled out of bed and slipped on the running clothes she’d left on the hook at the back of her door. She didn’t put her sneakers on inside, but carried them along the hallway with her. The front door opened silently on oiled hinges and she stepped into the clear morning. With a few careful hamstring stretches and a kilometre walk to warm up, Amelia kicked into her five-k track. Music pumping through the ear buds, she ran without thinking, sometimes in time with the beat and sometimes not.

To her delight, her father, John, had agreed to feed up some steers for the rodeo. Kept close to the house, they’d grown used to Amelia and no longer ran away as she followed her trail around their paddock. Instead they raised their heads, kept chewing, and watched until she passed. Amelia loved that; it meant not only that she belonged, but also that she could look at them and imagine them in the rodeo ring, ducking and weaving as horse and rider mirrored their moves, easing them along.

She noticed all the little daily changes in the paddock. Even though she wasn’t a farmer, she still loved the land and stock. Occasionally she helped out in the yards, but if her brother was around she preferred to be nowhere near.

Her breath hissed in and out as she rounded a bend, then the sharp noise of the galahs made her smile. No matter how often she did this course, they rose in a squawking flock as she passed. A few metres on, she threw a quick glance over her shoulder: they’d already settled back onto the ground and were pulling at the onion weed growing along the edge of the track.

Running gave Amelia quiet time and cleared her head for the day, before all the thoughts started to crowd in. It kept her trim and fit. It also meant she could see her favourite place on the whole of Granite Ridge.

Well, she could look at the entry to it. Floods in previous years had made what her family affectionately called ‘Emerald Springs’ almost impossible to reach. Deep crevices, carved out by heavy rain, meant a ute couldn’t drive in, and what had once been the Bennett family’s picnic area had become overgrown with thick bush. No one had set foot there in ages, even though Amelia thought the long hike over granite boulders was probably worth it.

She blew out her breath, wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow, and ran on without stopping. One day soon she’d go up there, she promised herself. Every morning she remembered what the spot looked like. Circled by moss-covered rocks, where lizards sun-baked, was the main pool of water, which never went dry. Bottlebrush trees grew through cracks in the stones, their branches hanging over the water’s surface, and wattle birds flitted between the tall red flowers.

Along the track before the main pool, up higher in the rocks, were two smaller pools. These often went dry because their water trickled down through thin waterfalls into the main one.

John had told Amelia that the main pool would have been used as a natural spring by the Aboriginal people: a place they knew would always hold water. In fact, there were precious rock carvings of circles, indicating water, en route to the springs.

As a kid, she’d spent Sunday lunches there with her parents and Graham. They carted the barbecue over the boulders, and it didn’t take long before the smell of sizzling chops was wafting through the air. Amelia would never admit it, but the thinly sliced potatoes and onions had been her favourite, not the chops. And the sponge cake for dessert had certainly come a close second.

Later, her teenage birthday parties had been held there, and she and her three closest friends—Chelle, who also just happened to be her cousin on her father’s side, Chrissie and Sav—had spent nights around a campfire, playing truth or dare and talking about boys. Or they’d go up during the day to lie on the small sandy beach and sunbathe, then take a dip to cool down. Amelia had loved to pluck flowers from the trees and put them in her hair, pretending she was on an exotic island. At night, they would break off branches and use them to roast marshmallows in the orange flames.

Emerald Springs had also been her daydreaming spot, the place where she could feel sand between her toes, float in cool water and stare at the sky. During wildflower season she would scour the hills for orchids.

When Amelia looked back, she thought how idyllic the area had been. Almost too perfect. Wistfully she wondered what it looked like now—if it was as gorgeous and wild as she remembered. She really wanted to take Paul there and show him how beautiful it was. To share it with him. Maybe even make love there on the sand.

Amelia ran on and on, ragged breaths escaping her, until her wristwatch beeped time and she turned back towards the house.

‘Morning, Milly.’ Natalie was hovering over the stove, tongs in hand. Deftly she served up a plate of bacon, eggs and tomatoes and placed it in front of John.

‘Morning,’ Amelia puffed and headed towards the bathroom.

‘Good run?’ her father asked.

‘Uh-huh. Back in a sec. Nature calls. Morning, Graham.’

Her brother nodded as she walked past, his mouth stuffed with the cooked breakfast his mum had just given him.

Amelia shook her head. Sometimes living at Granite Ridge was how she imagined things were like in the 1950s. Her mother, dressed in an apron, made it her business to tend to the every need of her menfolk. It was what Natalie had been brought up to do; the way her mother before her had treated her husband and sons. Even though Amelia could see how exhausting it was, she also knew her mother wouldn’t change.

At the end of the hall Amelia paused and looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen. The table was encased in early morning sunlight and her family was laughing at something. No matter what, she loved them. Although her brother could be a pampered pain in the arse, he was also charming and told the best jokes. And John was kind, loving and supportive—everything a daughter could hope from a dad—and he treated Natalie with respect and kindness.

Ten minutes later, washed and dressed, Amelia was sitting in front of a bowl of cereal. She drank deeply from a glass of water, then smiled at her family, wishing she didn’t feel she had to try so hard with them.

‘So, what’s everyone up to today?’ she asked cheerily.

‘Just the usual for me, washing and ironing,’ Natalie answered as she scraped egg fragments into the chook bucket. ‘What about you, love?’

Reaching for the honey, Amelia wrinkled her nose as she thought. ‘I’ve got to be at Pip’s to do her monthly accounts by nine, and then I thought I’d go see Paul. Unless you need any help here, Dad?’

John shook his head, mouth full.

‘We’re fine, Amelia,’ Graham said before their father could swallow. ‘You go off and see your boyfriend.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m going to start shearing my mob of ewes today.’ Graham was allowed to run two hundred ewes that were solely his on Granite Ridge, to supplement the pittance his parents paid him.

Amelia shrugged. ‘No worries, just thought I’d ask.’ She bit her tongue. It wasn’t only her mother who had the 1950s attitude towards women. There were times she just really wanted to snot Graham, especially when he spoke down to her.

She’d wondered more than once why Danielle put up with it. Love could be blind, she reasoned. Especially when it was new and exciting. And Dani, at twenty-three, six years younger than Graham, had visions of being the grand farmer’s wife with all the trimmings. A big wedding to begin with and then a lovely homestead. She wouldn’t have a clue what it was like to manage the farm finances the way that Amelia did. Didn’t mean she couldn’t, but Amelia knew that Dani had a lot of maturing to do, as well as learning what real life on a farm was like.

The talk turned to familiar business matters and, half-listening, Amelia thought about Graham and his attitude towards money. In spite of his meagre income, he loved spending and never seemed to save anything. He never considered the future. Whenever he saw money sitting in the farm account, he wanted to buy something new, generally to replace equipment that was still in working order. He couldn’t understand that the extra money had already been earmarked for something else, like a tractor payment or remitting GST monies. Graham certainly hadn’t got Amelia’s head for and love of figures.

Lately she’d seen some improvement in him. He’d started hanging out with Anne Andrews’ three sons, Will, Mike and Tony, when some of his less savoury high school friends had moved on from town. Anne had raised her boys right. If only Natalie could have taken a leaf from her book.

Amelia tuned back in to hear her dad say: ‘Not a partner, no, but Milly understands how it works. She’s more than qualified, too, which you seem to forget.’

Natalie took her hands out of the soapy washing-up water. ‘We should make sure that Graham can do it though, John. We’ve talked about this before. How can he take over Granite Ridge unless he’s fully informed? He’s going to be a married man soon enough, and I can’t imagine Danielle being too happy about Graham not having more of a say about what goes on around here.’

There it was, just like clockwork. Amelia put her head down and tried not to grit her teeth. Then she started gulping down her cereal, wanting to leave the table as soon as possible and avoid an old, tired argument.

‘Hell’s bells, Nat,’ John said, ‘our Milly’s got a degree in commerce! Surely we should be entitled to use her talents to benefit the farm.’ He wiped a piece of bread around his plate to pick up all the egg yolk.

‘Mum’s right though,’ said Graham, scratching behind his ear, a sure sign that he was getting angry. ‘Not many farmers employ a bookkeeper, and you all seem to forget I do my own books for my sheep and my loan.’ He looked at them all. ‘Anyway, it’s usually the wives who do the books and I know Dani’s perfectly capable.’

Amelia tried not to cough. Not yet, Dani wasn’t. It would come with time and there was still proof needed that Graham had a handle on his own affairs.

‘John, no one’s saying Milly isn’t good at what she does,’ Natalie said, ‘but you know she’s a bit flighty, just like Kim. At some stage she’ll be swept off her feet by a man and leave. Then where will you be?’

‘Um, excuse me? I’m actually in the room.’ A surge of anger forced Amelia to her feet. ‘Could you please not discuss my faults like I’m not here? And have you forgotten about Paul?’

‘No need to get so fired up, love.’ Natalie reached over and patted Amelia’s arm. ‘No offence meant, but one day Graham will take over here and his wife will be the one he turns to. We love you just as you are, but sisters shouldn’t stand in the way.’ She raised her eyebrows and nodded towards John as if to say: I told you.

‘Let’s change the subject,’ John said. ‘Graham, I’ve organised for the agronomist to take soil samples from the same GPS coordinates as last year. He’ll be here at one-thirty. Can you meet him at the sheds?’

Graham looked embarrassed. ‘Ah, no, I can’t, Dad. Don’t you remember I asked to have this afternoon off so Dani and I can buy our engagement ring?’

Amelia watched the delight spread across Natalie’s face. ‘I must call her mother and see if I can help with organising the engagement party.’ She put her hands on her hips and smiled, her eyes thoughtful. ‘I’m sure I could help decorate the footy club rooms, or do some cooking.’

Good, Amelia thought crankily. Might keep you off my case for a while.

‘What time will you be back?’ John asked Graham.

‘Not in time for work. We’ll go straight from Barker to Torrica, and I’ll stay on for footy training. I’m gonna grab a tankful of diesel too.’

‘No worries, son. Actually, while we’re on that subject, there’s been a lot of reports of fuel being stolen from farms, some chemical and sheep—there have even been bales of wool taken—and also drive-offs from remote service stations. Amelia bought a padlock last time she was in town and I’ve put it on the bowser. The key’s on the wall just inside my office. Don’t forget to lock up when you’ve finished.’

‘A padlock won’t make any difference,’ Graham said scornfully. ‘They’ll use bolt cutters if they really want to get in.’

‘I heard they’re sending a detective up from Adelaide to do a community talk about how to cut down on rural crime,’ Amelia put in.

‘Really?’ asked her mother, her tone high in surprise. ‘Still, what a good idea. Need to deter the little blighters somehow.’

‘Yeah, they were talking about it on the Country Hour a couple of days ago.’

‘You listen to the Country Hour?’ Graham gave her a wide-eyed look.

‘You’d be surprised by what I do,’ she answered with a sweet smile. There was no point in telling him that she was up with the current agribusiness news, the prices of sheep, cattle and crops, and what was new in research and development. She needed to be, otherwise she couldn’t be good at her job. But even if Graham listened, he’d forget as soon as she told him.

‘So what type of ring do you think you’re going to buy?’ Natalie turned the conversation back to something of interest to her.

‘Dani was talking opals and gold, but I guess it’ll depend on what we see.’ Graham put his empty coffee cup on top of his breakfast plate and handed it over to his mum, who took it with a smile.

‘Aren’t opals pretty expensive?’ Amelia said before she could stop herself.

‘Money is no issue. I’ve been saving up.’

Ha, I’d like to believe that, Amelia thought before she pushed her chair away and picked up her bowl to take to the sink. ‘Nice for some,’ she said. ‘I guess I’ll see you all at tea. Can’t wait to see the ring, Graham. Will you bring Dani back here after training?’

‘No, she’ll stay in town. You can all see the ring when she comes to dinner next week. It’ll be the talk of the town! Nothing ordinary for my girl.’

Amelia wanted to roll her eyes. Instead, she tipped her head to the side and surveyed him. Where was he going to get the cash to buy something as expensive as an opal engagement ring? She knew Danielle: that girl wouldn’t settle for anything that wasn’t flashy and showy. Looks like Graham is overspending again.

Chapter 3

Detective Dave Burrows tapped the steering wheel as he drove north. It had been three years since he’d last driven this road and so much had changed. Not the landscape so much, but him. His life.

He was no longer living in Perth; Adelaide was his base. He wasn’t married, but separated. His two daughters still spoke to him, but less often than before the split; he cherished those phone calls more than ever. He was still a detective, but with all the funding cuts and lack of manpower in country areas, he spent more time in his car and less at a desk. That was the one change he liked.

The music switched to Cold Chisel’s ‘Flame Trees’ and he felt a rush of cold run through him. The song reminded him of Melinda, his soon-to-be-ex-wife. He didn’t need to listen to that. He leaned forward and changed the station to the ABC.

That helped. He could direct his thoughts a bit better. As he drove towards Clare, he thought back over the crimes that were the reason for his visit. There’d certainly been an unusual number happening in this area of the state. Of course, the towns got rougher and more ‘wild west’ the further north you headed, especially up around Coober Pedy and Mintabie where the opals were. Men—and women—could just disappear without a trace up there. A bit lower down there’d been a spate of fuel robberies, service station drive-offs and opportunistic sheep thefts, but one tanker theft stood out in terms of sheer audacity and quantity.

‘The first of three robberies,’ he said aloud. Talking to himself was one of the ways he reviewed evidence, as links were often clearer this way. ‘Five hundred kilometres north of Adelaide. Eighty k’s from the nearest town, Torrica. The farmer had been at the bowser the night before, filling his ute before he headed to a meeting. The diesel tank, all ten thousand litres of it, had just been filled that day and was still full when he was refuelling. So it was drained sometime between when the farmer left for the meeting and the next morning. No tyre tracks, but there was a strong wind that night. The question is, how did the crims know the tanker had just been refilled and he was off to a meeting? Inside information? Does that mean it’s a local?’ Dave thought for a bit, then continued. ‘Ten thousand litres is a lot of fuel. You can’t just fill up empty drums on the back of your ute and drive away. You’d need a truck with a tanker on the back.’

He reached over to the passenger’s seat and found his notebook. Glancing between the road and the pages, he scribbled: truck type? regos? before chucking it back on the seat.

Then there were the other two thefts—fuel hadn’t been stolen in those cases, but they had a similar pattern. Sixty k’s in the other direction from Torrica had seen thirteen shuttles of chemicals taken. Once again, no one had been home on the night. There’d been truck tracks beside the loading ramp of the shed. If only the local coppers had thought to take a cast of the tyre tracks, but of course it had seemed like a random, opportunistic theft. At least they’d done enough to enable the victim to claim the insurance.

Dave kept spinning these thoughts around as he drove, then focused on the third crime, which had happened a couple of weeks later. A GPS guidance system had been stolen out of a tractor. Once again there was no one around. There had been tracks and footprints, but by the time the locals got out to the farm, they’d been destroyed by the farmer walking back and forth over the top of them. It had been frustrating when the locals had told Dave what had happened. It had been even more annoying when they hadn’t thought to run a fingerprint kit over the inside of the tractor, even over the door handles.

Dave would have loved to have bawled them out for their incompetence, but he knew they were young and still learning. He also knew there were better ways to explain things to people than yelling. He prided himself on his casual but professional approach to dealing with staff members and the public.

He reached for his notebook and, steering with his knees, wrote: Interview GPS owner, noise, lights etc, before throwing the book back on the passenger’s seat.

His daughters would laugh at him. ‘Dad! Use Siri, you can just talk to her.’ It had taken Dave some time to work out who ‘Siri’ was. ‘No good me trying any new technology,’ he’d told the girls. ‘I’m too old to change my habits. And half the places I end up in don’t have mobile reception.’ The girls had pooh-poohed him for a while, but eventually given up.

Glancing out the window, Dave took in the paddocks and the dry brown land that stretched to the base of the majestic gumtree-covered Clare Hills. He allowed himself a small smile. He was almost at Kate and Sam’s, and it was such a long time since he’d seen them. Dave and Kate had been as close as cousins could be when they were kids. Three years ago, she’d unwittingly become mixed up with a drug-running ring. He’d been so worried about her and Sam—as well as their friends, Matt and Anna Butler—that he’d almost broken all the rules and flown to South Australia to help them out. Instead, all he’d been able to do was advise from afar, and it hadn’t been enough to stop Matt from being seriously injured in an assault.

Lost in thought, Dave missed the driveway. He eased his foot onto the brake, rolled to a stop, then yanked the wheel around and turned in through the gate, past a sign declaring that this was the home of Sam and Kate.

Dave pulled the unmarked police car up under a large pepper tree and shut off the engine. He looked around for signs of his cousin, but couldn’t see her. He did, however, notice a diesel tank near the shearing shed, and went over to take a look. It was just a normal tank with a tap attached and a pipe that would let the diesel siphon down. He looked over his shoulder: the road was just over the rise and the tip of the shearing shed would probably be visible. It might pique the interest of anyone planning on stealing from an isolated farm.

Dave glanced at the sheds. Two tractors and a ute were parked inside. He strode over, climbed up the steps and looked through the tractor’s window. Keys were in the ignition and the doors weren’t locked. He shook his head.

‘Dave?’ He turned and saw Kate running from the house, her little Jack Russell, Zoom, at her heels. ‘Dave, you’re here!’

He grinned and walked quickly towards her, his arms outstretched. ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?’ He pulled her to him, while Zoom’s paws were busy on his jeans. The dog was checking him out, remembering his smell.