by Mandy Magro
‘What do you mean?’ She eyed him inquisitively.
‘My father doesn’t want a bar of me because he doesn’t know why I laid into Levi that night at the pub.’ He kept his voice even. ‘I reckon if he did, he might find it in his heart to forgive me. And I lost the one true love of my life because of it.’
She raised a trembling hand to quieten him. ‘Okay.’ She hung her head and sighed, over and over. ‘I get it, I really do, and I’m sorry I’m being selfish.’ She stayed motionless, but then lifting her head and staring into space, she replied, very carefully, ‘If I do change my mind, and we do this, do you honestly believe Levi will get what he deserves, or will he do a couple of months in prison and walk out a free man?’
Hope exploded in his chest. ‘I can’t say whether the law will make him do the time, but he will suffer for the crime for the rest of his life, Jules. There’s no way in hell the medical board will let him keep practising if he’s charged with attempted rape, and I’m sure his wife will think differently of her husband if she knows the truth of who he really is.’ Her distress obvious, he silently cursed himself for putting her in this position. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just …’ He prevaricated, tripped over his words, swallowed them before he told her just how much he loved her and how much losing her broke him. He’d gone and said too much already. ‘We’ve both had to live with this dark secret long enough, don’t you think?’
She broke now, sobs rising and tears flowing. Mortified at bringing her to this point, he stood and pulled her to him once more. Resisting him at first, but then succumbing, she buried her face into his chest, her body shuddering as she wept. Fighting to hold himself together for her sake, he rested his cheek against her head, cradling her to him, wishing he could protect her like this forever. At the very least, as long as she followed through with moving into Zoe’s place, he could keep an eye on her for now and help her through this. His hand soothing her back, her ragged breaths eventually evened out, and an intimate silence enveloped them. He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and although meant to be completely innocent, there was no denying the intense sensation of his lips upon her skin.
As if feeling it too, she pulled back a little and eyed him cautiously. ‘What was that?’
He fought for his next breath. ‘Me telling you I’m here for you and I’ll look after you. That’s all.’
‘I think I’d better head back home.’ Sniffling, she untangled her arms from around him and wiped at her cheeks. ‘Before …’ She verbally stumbled. ‘… it gets any later.’
He swallowed, and then nodded. ‘You going to be all right, riding home in the dark, and bareback?’
‘Don’t worry so much about me.’ She smiled softly, although it didn’t reach her puffy red eyes. ‘I’ve got this.’ She gave his arm a tap. ‘Let me know when you’ve talked to your mum about me staying at Zoe’s for a little bit.’
‘Sure thing, I’ll head over there soon, then I’ll call you.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Joel.’ She couldn’t meet his eyes now, looking anywhere but. ‘Thank you for lending your ear, and the yummy food and port.’
‘Of course. Anytime.’
An awkward moment passed as she turned to him and they stared at each other. Then she made her way down the steps and to Warrior chillaxing beneath the big old mango tree.
‘Let me know when you’re home safe, hey?’ he called after her.
‘Will do,’ she said over her shoulder.
Watching her stride away, her horse loyally at her side, Joel felt the familiar knot in his stomach. Was he ever going to get a second chance with her?
CHAPTER
19
Gunshots rang out, echoed, the ping of the metal cans exploding resonating deep within Joel as he recalled the many tokens of love and pride his father had once shown him. With the cold steel of the rifle comforting in his hands, the days of his youth rose up in a vision as his gaze distorted with unshed tears. He gruffly blinked them away. As a nine-year-old boy, his dad had taught him to shoot while controlling every breath so he could keep his hands steady. As a thirteen-year-old, he’d finally allowed him to sit in the saddle of a young, green, half-broke gelding, and ride the bucks out like he’d taught him, Joel’s butt firmly planted, his hands gripping the reins. At seventeen, his father had proudly handed over the keys to his beloved old LandCruiser, and at eighteen, he’d given him the keys to his very own kingdom – the refurbished barn and an equal share of the farm.
Now, his father couldn’t even give him the time of day.
Heavy-hearted, Joel recalled the solemn moment he’d stood at the crossroads of his life, one way leading to a peaceful existence spent working alongside his father, with Juliette as his wife, and their children to love and cherish. The other way led into some of the darkest and hardest roads he’d ever travelled, a lonely, broken, grief-stricken man. He’d been forced to choose the latter, forced to give up his dreams, to walk away from his one true love and his family. Sharp arrows of remorse shot through him once more, reminding him of all that he’d lost, of all that he was helpless to remedy. He thought about the cruelty that Juliette had grown up with at the hands of her stepfather. He thought about how she’d lost her real father to cancer when she was only five years old. He thought about how Lachlan had treated her with such disrespect. The injustice of it all was unbearable.
The box of ammo he’d taken from his father’s gun cabinet in the shed, along with the .22 rifle, was now almost empty. His dad was a man of habit, and Joel hadn’t been surprised to find the key in exactly the same place it had always been hidden. On a roll, another round of shots echoed through the thicket of trees lining the side of the creek bank as he fired. All the targets he’d lined up, bar six empty cans, were now blown to smithereens. Making sure the safety was on, and then carefully placing the rifle down beside him, he flexed his fingers. His back resting against the trunk of the paperbark, he squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered with the pent-up rage coiling through him. Being right back where it had all happened was overwhelming. But he was determined to somehow push through the sensations. He’d been here since the blackness of night had started turning powdery blue, trying to distract himself, trying to heal, just … trying. When he was a teenager, target practice had always helped clear his head, so it was worth a shot. Anything to take his mind off everything.
Taking a deep breath, he picked the rifle back up and cocked it. Then, steadying himself, his gaze narrowed down the barrel of the gun as he lined up the last of the cans he’d placed along the creek bank. The gun kicked with each press of the trigger. Moving the muzzle left to right, each can in turn exploded until there was nothing left to shoot and he had nothing to distract him. What was he meant to do now?
His thoughts persistently dragging him backwards, he wished he could stop the cogs of his mind turning. It was downright exhausting, reliving everything over and over, and frustrating as hell, knowing he couldn’t do what felt so innately right, to both Levi Muller and Malcolm Kern. He understood Juliette’s concerns, respected them even, but there had to be a way. The ball was now essentially in her mother’s court. It all depended on what she did once she saw the photographs of her husband cheating with her friend. He prayed to god she did the sane thing, the right thing, and left the repulsive man for good.
Cursing the muggy heat that the rising of the sun had brought with it, he grumbled beneath his breath as he stood, ready to make his way back home. A bad headache battering his already weary mind, he pressed thumbs into pounding temples. The lack of sleep and ceaseless worry was doing him no favours. Stepping from the dappled shade of the towering trees, he tugged the brim of his hat down low on his forehead, shielding his face from the blazing morning glare. The now cloudless sky was a far cry from the leaden clouds he’d observed swallowing up the stars for most of the night from his hammock, before they’d heaved bucketloads of rain over everything in sight. The downpour was a sure way to intensify the already stifling humidity Far North Q
ueensland was renowned for, and to send the mosquitos into a frenzied buzz.
It was just shy of ten when he took a shortcut through the small fruit plantation his dad and he had planted all those years ago. The sun had already burnt the mist from the rows of thriving mango and lychee trees. Just up ahead, a wildflower-speckled paddock filled with sunshine stretched out, the roof of the barn glinting just beyond it, and Zoe’s cottage just over the way. He hoped Juliette hadn’t gone and changed her mind overnight about calling the place home, for now. He wanted her nearby, to love her, to protect her, to heal her broken heart.
Along the road that led to the farm, the distinctive sound of a vehicle zoomed past, way too fast. Nobody drove like that around here – something had to be wrong. Now back in mobile range, he reached into his pocket and checked his mobile for what felt like the umpteenth time. There was still no reply to his three calls or the two text messages he’d sent Juliette last night. She’d done as promised and texted him when she’d arrived home safe and sound, but since then, it had been radio silence. Eager to tell her his mum – concerned for Juliette when he explained her marriage was falling apart – had gone as far as to say she could stay as long as needed at Zoe’s place, he was becoming increasingly concerned something even worse than what she’d already told him had happened. He didn’t trust Lachlan as far as he could throw him. Wouldn’t put anything past the selfish, egotistical bastard. If he hadn’t heard from her by the time he’d put the gun away and checked in on Dynamite, he was going to head on over to the Davises’ place and check in on her. He knew he wasn’t welcome there, but to hell with the consequences. Tired of bullies, he’d be glad to teach Lachlan Davis a lesson, if it came to it.
The gun locked safely away, he traipsed across the drive, towards Dynamite’s paddock, his newfound buddy, Red, the cantankerous rooster, in tow. For some strange reason, the obnoxious bird had taken a liking to him, and for some equally strange reason, Joel was finding the boastful fowl exasperatingly likeable. Under the shade of the big old jacaranda tree, Red’s chicks were busy foraging and, like a dog to a bone, the rooster took off at a gallant gallop towards them. With a smirk and a shake of his head, Joel watched Red skid to a stop, then strut, his red comb wobbling and his wings and chest puffed out. Their ways of courting and wooing weren’t much different to humans. The thought amused him enough to bring a much-needed smile to his face.
Trying to ignore the sun belting down upon his back and the gnawing of hunger in his belly, he revelled in the fact there was no sound, save for the quiet whisper of the breeze through the grasslands, the comforting lowing of cattle, and the sweet singsong of the native birds resting in the branches of their chosen trees. Mother Nature’s soothing ballad offered a little solace to his tired mind and tattered spirit. Well aware he’d pushed the limits about going to the cops, he was also acutely aware it was very possible that if he went against Juliette’s wishes, she would never speak to him again. As desperate as he was to fix what should have been fixed all those years ago, he wasn’t prepared to risk her friendship – not even for his father. He’d lost her once. He wasn’t about to risk that again. Without being able to speak the truth, it was pointless trying to bring his father around, to make him see he was still the moralistic, god-fearing boy he’d raised – a man for him to be proud of, a son he’d easily love.
Speak of the devil, the silence was broken as the grunt of the four-wheeler quickly approached and his father tore past him – the only greeting he got was the dust spiralling out behind the quad bike. In a bad mood already, Joel grit his teeth. Where’s the damn fire?, he wanted to call after him. Frustrated after spending the past few weeks trying to pretend his father’s heartless actions didn’t hurt him, he was fighting to hold it all together. If not for his mother, and wanting to keep the peace for her sake, he’d have had his say by now. Enough was enough.
After lying in the hammock all night long, wide-awake and mulling everything over, he’d made his decision. If Juliette’s mother left Malcolm, and Juliette still forbade him from going to the police, he was going to hit the dusty trails once more, in search of the virtually impossible – contentment. Without Juliette, he knew he never would truly be happy. He couldn’t stay here, pretending everything was going to be okay because, no matter how he spun the story in his head, it wasn’t going to be.
He reached Dynamite’s paddock, happy to see his horsey mate at ease. Resting his forearms on the railings, he smiled, proud of how far the stockhorse had come in such a short amount of time. ‘How’s life treating you today, buddy? Anything new and exciting happening?’
The big bay raised his head a few inches, looking a little goofy with grass jutting from the corners of his mouth. His tail swishing, he plodded over, still munching on his earthy goodness. Small puffs of dust rose from his feet as he crossed the part of the paddock he liked to roll in, especially after just being hosed down. But just before reaching Joel, the gelding stopped, ears pricked forwards, head high. Joel turned just in time to watch his father’s four-wheel drive roar towards them and then skid to an almighty stop.
His father’s expression solemn, he regarded him with concern – his mum was the first thing that came to Joel’s mind. ‘Everything okay?’ He took steps forward, arms folded.
‘No, it’s bloody well not.’ For once, his father didn’t take his eyes off him. ‘Someone’s gone and cut the top fence and about thirty head are out and on their way to bloody town!’
Joel stopped short of the driver’s side. ‘Who in the hell would have gone and done that?’ He recalled the noise of a car speeding along the road almost an hour ago, and two possible culprits came to mind.
‘Christ only knows. I just spoke to Wombat, and he’s trying to round them up in the cop car over near Ned’s place. I can only imagine the state they’ll be in if he’s got the sirens blaring.’
Wombat was an absolute character who looked exactly like Rich Uncle Pennybags, with his short white hair and curly moustache. ‘Oh Lord help us.’
‘Tell me about it.’ His father slapped the door. ‘So, come on then, don’t just stand there gawking at me like a bloody galah. Get in. I need your help.’ Huffing, he shoved a hand through wind-beaten grey hair and left it standing almost on end. ‘The truck will be here in less than two hours to load the cattle up for the meatworks, and that’s gonna be a bit tricky if the four-legged buggers are nowhere in sight.’
Joel felt a surge of desperation to rush to his father’s aid. It was good to finally feel needed, despite the crappy circumstances. Tearing around to the passenger side, he was about to jump in when he caught sight of Dynamite, watching him vigilantly, and a thought struck him. He peered through the window. ‘I reckon I’d be more help on the back of a horse, Dad.’
Bushy brows momentarily furrowed, and then his father nodded. ‘Yeah, righto, but hurry it up. If they get into the scrub, we’ll be looking for them in the dark.’ He revved the engine, his hand at the ready on the gear stick.
‘You head off, I won’t be too far behind you.’
‘Righto. I’ll meet you over on Graham Road.’ He rolled his eyes and snorted and off he went, like a bull at a gate, the tail end of the LandCruiser swaying to and fro on the loose gravel, his trusty old blue heeler holding on for dear life in the tray, the chain safely holding the old dog in place.
Joel didn’t waste any time catching Dynamite, saddling him up and climbing aboard. Not used to the urgency, Dynamite didn’t have time to even think about playing up. Swinging into the saddle, Joel settled in, reins firmly in his hands, and heeled into the stirrups as tight as he could. This was what he was made for, and it was a side of him his father was yet to see, after refining his horseman skills the past eleven years. Once away from the outhouses, and taking a shortcut through the bushlands, he gave Dynamite the cue and, like lightning uncorked, the horse shot forwards, skilfully weaving his way through thickets and ravines, sure-footed and confident.
The wind tearing past them, he ste
ered Dynamite in the general direction of Ned’s place, right next door to the Davises’. Minutes later, he arrived to find somewhat controlled mayhem, with Ned on his four-wheeler, his dad at the rear of the meandering mob in the LandCruiser, Wombat doing circles in his police car, sirens on but not blaring, and a gorgeous woman on her magnificent horse keeping the cattle in line over yonder. Although she was at a distance, Juliette was unmistakable. Both shocked and ecstatic to find her here, his heart leapt into his throat. He choked it back into place as he galloped over to her, careful not to spook the cattle.
‘Howdy,’ he called out as he approached her, returning a wave to Wombat at the same time. ‘Fancy seeing you here. This is becoming a habit.’
‘Hey, Joel. Yeah, it is. About time you turned up,’ she replied with a sassy grin, just before turning her horse as though pirouetting and pulling a wayward bull making a beeline for the scrub back into place. Job done, she turned her attention back to him.
‘Oh, fair go, Jules, I saddled up as fast as I could.’ He flashed her a lighthearted smirk, rising to her banter as they all worked together, proficiently applying gentle pressure from all sides and easing the cattle along.
A few hundred metres up the road, a cow spooked, quickly communicating to the rest of the herd there was possible danger, which set them all off at a brisk trot behind their trailblazer. The young bull grabbed his chance for freedom once more and broke from the middle of the mob, his eyes set on a thicket of trees.
With Juliette busy trying to return order, Joel called out to her. ‘I got the bastard.’
With Joel’s cue, Dynamite wheeled after the one-tonne beast, the pair averting the bull’s breakaway just in time before it vanished into scrubland so dense it would have taken them an age to get the rogue brute back. Joel’s accident, and Ratbag’s untimely death, came rushing back to him, but he pushed the painful memory away. He didn’t have the luxury of time right now. Dynamite needed him, he needed Dynamite, his father needed the pair of them – he had to be here, in both mind and body. Pushing the snorting brute back into place, he caught sight of his father behind the wheel, the expression on his face one of pride as he watched his son at work. Joel couldn’t help but allow it to sink into his heart, the short-lived moment refuelling the hope that they could somehow reconcile.