Emerald Springs

by Fleur McDonald

  Shaking her head, Amelia felt a sense of shame. How could she have been so stupid? Chelle’s voice echoed around her head: You weren’t yourself.

  ‘Totally,’ she muttered, ‘but is that a good enough excuse?’

  She went down the hallway, calling softly as she went. ‘Paul?’ When no answer came, she stopped, confused. Then she went to the bedroom. It was empty. So where was he? Again, the butterflies started in her stomach. As she paced the kitchen, their fluttering grew stronger and stronger. She imagined him injured in a paddock somewhere, no one knowing where he was. Maybe he was unconscious.

  Or maybe he’s stealing something else, the devil’s advocate in the back of her mind said loudly.

  ‘Piss off,’ she muttered, closing her eyes and trying to banish the wayward voice. ‘You know that’s not true.’

  Finally she went outside and stared into the gloom, hoping to see a flash of light or hear a noise. Something to indicate that Paul was out with a lambing ewe or some other job that would need his attention at nine-thirty at night.

  Then she saw it. A beam of light bouncing across the land as if a ute had hit a bump. Relief flooded through her and she raced back inside to set up her plan.

  Ten minutes later, there were rose petals strewn across the bedroom floor and over the sheets. She’d placed candles in strategic positions leading down to the bedroom and set up a romantic picnic on the lounge-room floor.

  Just as she’d finished, Paul opened the kitchen door and stared at her. He was holding his shotgun. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, his expression hard to read in the soft glow of the candles.

  Amelia looked at him for a second before saying, ‘Oh, you’ve been fox shooting. I was wondering where you were.’

  Paul didn’t say a word and Amelia, overcome by emotion, didn’t know what to do or say, but finally acted on her heart. Walking over to him, she put her hands on his shoulders and looked straight into his eyes. ‘I’m really sorry, baby. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve been so emotional.’ She took her hands away and stepped back, giving a tight-lipped smile of regret. ‘Not an excuse, I know. I can’t change it, but I can say I’m sorry.’

  Paul nodded and moved around her. Pulling open the fridge door, he got out a beer and leaned against the new bench. ‘I have no idea what you were thinking either,’ he said quietly. ‘I can’t believe the woman I love so very much would even contemplate those thoughts about me. And only the day after some hotshot detective from the city comes and asks me the same questions. Makes it seem like he thinks I could hurt you. Got any idea how that makes a man feel?’

  ‘Oh, no. No.’ Amelia shook her head. ‘Well, I didn’t . . . not really.’ She glanced down, her face hot.

  ‘But you must have,’ Paul said, with a thoughtful look. ‘You accused me of—’

  Suddenly Amelia saw red. ‘Actually, I never said anything about the robbery. If you remember, I asked you where the money had come from, giving you a chance to explain, and you wouldn’t tell me. Then you were the one who put two and two together.’

  Paul gave a faint grin. ‘Ah, there’s the fighting spirit I know.’ He breathed in deeply through his nose and gazed at her, his blue eyes brightening. ‘I’m pleased to see that. You hadn’t really shown it lately. Oh wait—’ at her sharp look, he held up his hands as if to ward off a blow ‘—I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just . . . you’ve been kicked pretty hard and you were taking a little while to come back.’

  ‘And how would you know?’ she asked icily. ‘Other than the conversation at Kim’s, you haven’t really been around.’

  Paul seemed ashamed. ‘I know. I need to apologise for that. I was still angry and I didn’t even give you a chance to explain.’ He paused and gave her a slight smile. ‘What was really going on? Honestly, why did you suspect me?’

  Amelia took a breath and let it out slowly. ‘It was so weird. One moment there wasn’t any money to buy a bag of cement, and the next there were all these renovations and an engagement ring. It made no sense. And it was only just after everything had happened.’ She stopped, took another breath. ‘The way I felt . . . I’d been having nightmares. Somehow you being involved with the robbery came into my head, even though I knew it didn’t make sense. And when you wouldn’t explain . . .’ As she stared at him solemnly, her voice cracked. ‘Paul, I’m terribly, terribly sorry.’

  Paul moved over to her and took her hands. ‘I’m sorry too. I know my pride gets in the way too often and look where we are. I should have told you why I went to Adelaide.’ He made a face. ‘I just hate having to pinch and scrimp and save, and watch the bank account all the time, when all I want to do is give you the best.’

  ‘Why won’t you let me put some of my savings in?’

  He sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Milly, I just can’t. I was brought up to be independent, and I had to be that way when Dad turned out the way he did. I want to know I can look after you and whatever kids come along, without needing your money. Let’s use that for fun things, like holidays and stuff.’ He gave her a gentle smile. ‘Listen, I know this is hard, but I’m still really hurt and it’ll take me a bit of time to come back from that. See where we go from there.’

  ‘That sounds fair.’ Amelia vowed that she would put everything right, as of now. She pressed up against him and tried to put a sexy look on her face. ‘These French knickers are driving me up the wall. How about we take them off?’

  The glow of the bedside table clock read 3.30 a.m. Amelia rolled out of bed and went to get a drink of water. The moonlight streamed in the window above the kitchen sink and seemed to pool over her feet. Staring out at the land as she drank, she let herself contemplate what had happened the previous evening.

  She knew that Paul was still holding back from her, protecting himself. His caresses and kisses hadn’t been given with the same openness as before. He was trying to hide it, but the slight detachment had chilled Amelia to the bone. Had she pushed him too far? What if she couldn’t make it right? Guilt and shame flooded through her.

  The shadows the moon cast across the kitchen floor made her think about her soul. There were patches of light that weren’t hidden from anyone, but there were also dark places that she was trying to rid herself of: the self-doubt, the need to please others and the desire to be accepted. There was the fear and paranoia that still lingered from the attack—but also the strong wish to find out who had hurt her.

  Quietly, Amelia padded back to the bedroom and hopped beneath the warm covers. Paul was breathing steadily next to her. She curled herself around him, putting her arm over his hip, and gently pulled him to her. The words Please let this be all right ran through her head like a mantra until she fell back to sleep.

  Chapter 26

  The man was dressed in a woollen beanie and face mask, his hands covered in soft leather gloves. He put the truck into gear and drove quietly down the hill. His companion sat silent in the passenger seat, staring as the truck seemed to eat the white lines that marked the middle of the road.

  They drove about ten kilometres then gradually slowed down before coming to a complete stop. The driver didn’t pull off the road, but sat and waited, the engine idling. Seconds later another man emerged from the bush, dressed the same way. He climbed into the sleeper cab that lined the back of the truck and they continued on their way.

  ‘How did you know about the stud sheep?’ the driver asked, breaking the silence.

  ‘Town gossip at the farm merch store,’ the woman in the passenger’s seat answered. ‘The ewes are Paul’s engagement present to them both, and another way to make a bit of extra money. Got to give it to him, he’s thinking outside the square by starting up his own stud. It’s a good plan to add value to what he’s already got. But I’m not having that.’

  The bitter tone made the driver look over at her. She was staring straight ahead, hands folded in her lap, and holding her body in a rigid posture. He sighed and turned back to the road.

  Half an
hour later, she signalled with her hands and the truck started to slow down. ‘In here. Get the gate, will you?’

  The man they’d picked up climbed over the seat and jumped down to open the wire gate, dragging it to the side.

  ‘Pull the truck up in a corner,’ the woman said, ‘so we can make a forcing yard to push the sheep up onto the truck.’

  The country was swathed in gentle moonlight as they worked quickly to set up the panels they’d brought. In the crate of the truck were two black and tan kelpies, whining with anticipation. While the other man fastened the panels together with a roll of wire, the driver pushed open the crate and the dogs rushed out. They danced around his feet, standing on their back legs and jumping to reach his face. ‘Sit!’ he growled. Immediately they sat at his feet and looked up at him.

  Together the men lifted up a loading race to the gaping hole in the crate, then made sure it was sitting in tight and couldn’t fall under the weight of the ewes when they were being loaded onto the truck.

  ‘There’s a rope under the passenger’s seat,’ the driver said. ‘Can you get it and we’ll tie this to the crate?’

  The woman opened the door and fossicked under the seat until she felt the rough rope. She pulled it out and turned back to give it to the driver, but thought she felt something else pull out too. She looked on the ground and felt around, but couldn’t find anything. She decided that she must have imagined it.

  ‘We right?’

  ‘Reckon so.’

  The woman glanced at the sky. The stars and moon were visible, and there were drifting cotton-bud clouds. Turning to the south, where their weather usually came from, she made sure there wasn’t an approaching bank of cloud that hadn’t been factored in. They couldn’t afford not to have the moonlight. She’d watched the weather carefully over the past week with this plan in mind. Taking these sheep would leave a big hole in Paul’s income.

  They would win. After everything that had happened, they would win.

  The woman nodded and turned back to the two men. ‘Let’s get on with it, then.’

  The driver gave a low whistle and threw his arm out in the direction of the paddock. ‘Way back,’ he said to the dogs and they shot off without a backwards glance: one to the left, the other to the right.

  The three stood and listened as the dogs’ footfalls faded. A gentle breeze puffed at their faces and the rustle of the bushes made them all look around. Standing with their hands in their pockets gave them a relaxed look, but in reality they were tense, their eyes darting around, watching and listening for anything unusual. The bush on the road verge shielded them from view, but even so they didn’t want anyone driving past on the road while they were in the middle of the operation. It was unlikely—the road was rarely used because it had only one farm entrance, to Eastern Edge.

  The dogs’ owner gave a loud, short, sharp whistle once every few minutes. Before long they heard the dogs puffing, hooves thundering across the paddock and the occasional bleat. In the pale light the ewes looked white, the same colour as the moon, as they were herded across the paddock by two dark shadows. The dogs crisscrossed back and forth, not letting any escape. The men walked either side of the sheep until the dogs herded them into the forcing yards and the gate clinked shut behind them.

  ‘Right-o, on the truck with you all,’ the driver said and pushed the sheep towards the narrow race. With as little noise as possible but much encouragement from the men, they made their way into the crate one by one.

  The woman slid the door shut. ‘Done.’ She wanted to smile, pleased with their efforts so far, but there was still work ahead. ‘Let’s go,’ she said briskly.

  On the road back home, she listed everything that needed to be done with the ewes to make sure they couldn’t be recognised. ‘We need to take their tags out and replace them with our own. We’re going to need to change the earmark. We can do that by using a pocket knife and making an extra slit in the ear, through the mark that’s already there. That will make it unidentifiable.’ She talked on and the men listened. ‘They’ll have to stay in the back paddock, up near the bush for a while—at least until the heat dies down.’ She looked at her companions. ‘And there’s to be no more after this one. You hear me? No. More. They’re investigating hard since you idiots hurt that girl. God knows why he made you lot so stupid.’

  The driver looked across, his mouth open as if to say something, but the woman held up her finger and pointed it at him.

  ‘Don’t say a word,’ she hissed. ‘You’re the worst of the lot.’

  Amelia woke to a thump on the bedside table. Reaching across the bed, she realised Paul wasn’t there. Simultaneously she smelt coffee and opened her eyes. Paul was sitting beside her, a steaming mug in his hands. ‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ he said, pointing to her mug on the table, which was sitting in front of the clock.

  ‘Have I slept in?’ she asked.

  ‘Not that much, but I’m ready to head out—just got to refuel the ute. Do you want to get dressed and come and see those stud ewes I bought for us?’

  She’d forgotten all about them. ‘Yes! Of course I do.’

  ‘Right, see you down at the shed in fifteen minutes then.’

  As soon as he was gone, Amelia gulped down her coffee, leapt out of bed and headed for the shower. While she was soaping her hair, she realised that Paul hadn’t smiled at her once. That set warning bells ringing in her head. ‘Argh!’ she groaned, then quickly rinsed her hair and jumped out. Throwing on a clean set of clothes and dragging a brush through her hair, she grabbed her phone and ran to the shed, texting as she went.

  Graham, just wanted to check in with you this morning and see if you were okay. What was last night all about?

  After hitting send, she stuffed the phone in her pocket and kissed Paul good morning.

  ‘Who were you texting?’ he asked as he hung up the diesel hose and put the lid back on.

  ‘Graham. He was in a fight last night at the pub.’

  Paul turned and stared at her. ‘Graham? In a pub brawl?’ He sounded even more surprised than Chrissie. ‘Isn’t the engagement party tonight?’

  Amelia nodded and explained what had happened.

  ‘That’s strange,’ Paul said, shaking his head. ‘Maybe he’s getting cold feet or something? Anyway, jump in and I’ll show you these ewes. They’re really impressive with their size and bone structure.’

  As they drove off, Paul spoke with passion about the ewes and his plans for them, and Amelia let his voice wash over her. She enjoyed this so much: heading out in the ute with him, looking at the country and planning. It made her believe they still had a future together.

  ‘So really,’ Paul continued, as he slowed the ute and came to a stop in front of a gate, ‘this is going to be a good moneymaking venture, but it’ll also be fun. I love genetics and I think this would be a great thing for you to be involved in too, Milly. We’ve got to record all the birthdates and weights and so on in a special computer program. Then it gets sent off to New England Uni, and all the data is put in some great recording program that spits out EBVs we’ll use to help sell the rams.’

  EBVs? Amelia thought. Oh, of course, estimated breeding values.

  She straightened up. ‘I’d love to be involved.’ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Paul stiffen—maybe he was regretting his enthusiasm. He didn’t say anything more, so she got out of the ute, opened the gate and let him drive through.

  Paul circumnavigated the edge of the paddock, following the fence line. Amelia stared out the window, keen to catch a glimpse of the sheep before he did.

  ‘Weird,’ Paul muttered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can’t see them anywhere.’ He stopped and pulled out a set of binoculars from the centre console next to the handbrake. Slowly he canvassed the whole area. While he did that, Amelia got out and climbed onto the back of the ute, hoping the extra height would help.

  ‘Are they over there underneath that cluster of trees?’ she asked, leani
ng down to Paul’s window.

  She watched as he refocused the glasses. ‘Don’t reckon,’ he answered. ‘Hang on, we’ll go over there.’

  From her vantage point on the back of the ute, Amelia looked every which way as they drove. The wind whipped her hair over her face, making it hard to see, so she took off a hair lacky from her wrist and tied it back.

  ‘I can’t find them,’ Paul said after another ten minutes of driving. ‘Jump in here and we’ll check the next paddock.’

  Two hours later and they’d found nothing. The panic was plain on Paul’s face.

  ‘We’ve got to ring Dave,’ Amelia said, taking charge of the situation. She’d never seen him look so lost before. ‘With everything else that’s going on, it would be silly to think it couldn’t happen to you, babe. Come on, let’s go back to the house.’

  ‘Burrows,’ Dave barked into his mobile phone. He’d just spoken to Coops, who’d given him bad news about the note and bank statement—clean as a whistle.

  ‘Dave, it’s Amelia.’

  ‘Yes?’ He pulled his pen out of his pocket and picked up his notebook from the table, then glanced at his whiteboard, seeking the place where Amelia’s name was written in red.

  ‘I’m at Paul’s,’ she said breathlessly. ‘His stud ewes are gone.’

  Dave put the pen down and pressed the phone closer to his ear. ‘Stud ewes?’

  ‘Yeah, we’re out in the paddock they were in, but they’re not here.’

  ‘Are you sure they haven’t escaped? What sort of ewes?’

  ‘White Suffolks. We’ve checked the road verge and other paddocks—’

  ‘Crossbred-type sheep like to crawl. Could they have crawled out?’

  ‘We know that! We’re not idiots,’ Amelia said in a stronger voice. ‘Dave, we’ve looked. They’re not here. And just to be slightly pedantic, they’re not crossbred, they’re purebred White Suffolk. And we think we’ve found truck tracks.’