by Dave Warner
'Yes, Aunty. I'll get right onto it.'
Strudworth turned her attention to Charlotte.
'I'm very, very sorry for this, Charlotte. Now, let's go and get Leila back.'
Charlotte's heart almost burst with happiness on the spot.
'Now?'
'Well you don't want her to spend another night with this O'Regan, do you?'
She most certainly did not.
Chapter 10
It took around thirty minutes to drive to O'Regan's. Charlotte could not stop thinking of Leila for one second. The soundtrack Miss Strudworth provided, a tape of a pipe and drums band, did not affect her focus. Even when Miss Strudworth was regaling her with stories of the various crises she had experienced with Zucchini, Charlotte was thinking of Leila. She couldn't wait to spoil her. Strudworth wasn't sure exactly where O'Regan lived but knew it was a property off one of the highway's arterial roads. They found the road and turned off. Charlotte was used to the way her father drove, which was pretty fast. Miss Strudworth crept along like a winter flu and, more than once, Charlotte had to stop herself from yelling, 'Hurry up!'
'It's somewhere around here, I think,' said Strudworth, trying to peer out the window. Out here, like most of the Australian countryside, there were no street lights. One relied on moonlight and the car's small headlights to give a sense of location, but when the roads were lined with tall trees they could make the black impenetrable. Fortunately Strudworth had a large torch to help. Shaped like a box and weighing a tonne, it obediently shone a strong, thick beam where directed.
'Used it more than once to find a runaway horse,' confided Strudworth as she slowed so that Charlotte could rake the roadside with it. The beam hit a lopsided letterbox in desperate need of repair. A name had been painted on it crudely. Most of the letters were illegible but an R ga was visible.
'This must be it.'
Strudworth swung off the road into the dirt driveway. It was about seventy threadbare metres of open ground to where an outline of a house was made visible by a light burning inside. Charlotte's pulse was galloping. Soon she would be reunited with Leila.
'Now you let me do the talking, Charlotte.'
Charlotte had no intention of doing otherwise. As they got closer the headlights illuminated an empty horse float and an old utility with Pony Parties written down the side. This was it all right. Strudworth pulled up and they got out. It was a cool night, the wind whipping around them. Plastic bags, old cardboard boxes and newspaper inserts fluttered around their ankles like children begging to be taken away from here. Charlotte saw no barn or stable in the adjoining paddock, just a lean-to of a shed. Poor Leila. If this was where she was spending her time it must be horrible. She could see no sign of Leila, or any horse for that matter.
'Leila?' she called towards the paddock, but her words blew back into her face like they too were scared to stay here long. Part of her hoped that O'Regan might have some other more hospitable paddocks where he put his horses. The sound of Miss Strudworth's knuckles rapping the front door with all the authority of a policeman drew Charlotte's attention back to the house. The porch was littered with junk and bundles of old newspapers but there was a space near the door where she could stand.
The door creaked open on a man with food stains over his T-shirt.
'Yeah?'
There was extreme suspicion in the way he muttered that one word.
'Mr O'Regan?'
'Who's asking?'
'Miss Caroline Strudworth of Thornton Downs. Don't slouch, man.'
O'Regan seemed to automatically straighten himself. Strudworth ploughed right on.
'You recently purchased a horse of mine.'
'That's correct.'
His eyes moved shiftily from Strudworth to Charlotte.
'The man who sold it to you had no right. I want the horse back. I am prepared to refund your money but I must warn you that I am under no obligation to do so. Buyer Beware.'
O'Regan began to slouch again.
'I'd love to give you the horse back, your worship.' O'Regan had several times found himself in a magistrate's court and, out of habit, lapsed into the jargon of the court. 'But I can't.'
Charlotte knew she was supposed to keep quiet but it was all too much.
'Leila needs me. Where is she?'
O'Regan shrugged. 'I have absolutely no idea.'
Leila had absolutely no idea where she was. After she had lost her cool with the Triplets from Hell, things had kind of moved at a gallop, if one could pardon the equine pun. The triplets' father, a guy whose face resembled the armpit of a heavy metal drummer, had picked O'Regan up in one hand and threatened to drop him on top of the prongs of the combine harvester. Instead of standing up for his talent like Joel Gold or Tommy Tempest had often done, O'Regan, the spineless nitwit that he was, apologised profusely. Leila might have given him a good hoof to the butt herself but she was being restrained by some carnival guys.
Then the father threatened to go to his truck and get his rifle to finish off both Leila and O'Regan, at which point Leila decided it was time to leave. She reared, knocking two of her restrainers off their feet. Unfortunately for her, the third carnival guy was standing by with an electronic cattle prod. He applied it to her rump and volts shot through her as if she were popcorn in a microwave. The last and only time Leila had a similar experience had been while sitting in the spa at a party at Jack's place up on Mulholland Drive, overlooking Hollywood. Some Brazilian supermodel who had been dancing around, doing the samba with Madonna's ex (sorry, but who could remember his name?). Anyway, she'd tripped over a skateboard and cannoned into the Mexican caterer just as he was beginning to slice a side of beef with his electric knife. The caterer had fallen into the spa with his knife and the electricity had travelled through the water like a crazed eel and zapped Leila. Her skin puckered all over and for two days her mane had been standing on end. She was the first filly to sport a Mohawk. Things could have been much worse had the safety-switch not cut in. For a start, the heavy metal guitarist Woody Redwod had been sharing the spa with Leila at the time and the electric knife could so easily have severed his fingers, thereby depriving the world of the hottest licks since the Lion King's tongue. As it was, he lost only one little toe.
The ending of Leila's current story was much bleaker. O'Regan talked the angry father out of going for his gun by offering him the day's takings. As soon as the dust from the guy's wheels had settled, O'Regan took to threatening Leila with what he was going to do to her. Not surprisingly, it involved skinning and boiling. It was at that moment that another guy interrupted the tirade. This bald guy looked even shiftier than O'Regan. He said he might be able to help O'Regan out of his plight. He needed a horse and he was prepared to pay cash, up front, on the knocker. Leila could tell O'Regan was torn between his dreams of an entertainment empire built on high-priced polaroids of kids with Leila the movie star, and a handful of immediate, dirty money.
The money, of course, won.
Leila was sold like some slave. She was still woozy from the effects of the cattle prod and barely taking in what was happening to her as she was led on jellied legs to a large truck. This wasn't a horse float, just a big truck with no markings. She tried to back out but it was no use. Some men pushed her inside and then the door closed.
How long she stayed in that black hole she couldn't be sure. Maybe two hours. Finally the truck stopped and the door was unbolted. She shuffled down the ramp in the dark. The small, solidly built man who had bought her, his check shirt smelling of body odour, led her through thick woods into a small clearing where a number of SUVs were parked around a campfire in league with some trail bikes. Two tents had been erected in the clearing and snoring was coming from within. Leila was scared but she didn't dare misbehave. She was already regretting losing it with the triplets. How would Charlotte ever find her now?
Leila looked with alarm at a half-dozen big chainsaws lying around. Oh no. Was this her fate? To be cut up and maybe sold as
pet food? The entrée for some spoiled poodle? One of the tents opened and a young man with a thick beard crawled out.
'You get us a new horse?'
'Yeah, all worked out perfect. This nag was playing up. The owner couldn't wait to sell her.'
'Let's hope she lasts longer than the last one.'
Leila gulped. That didn't sound good. She tried to not think about what fate might have befallen her predecessor.
'Four days. That's all she has to last.'
FOUR DAYS!!!! Leila was terrified. From the sound of it she had four days to live.
Chapter 11
'Have some, it will make you feel better.'
Miss Strudworth pushed across the mug of steaming hot chocolate, which, on most nights, would make Charlotte excited. Tonight, however, she could not even contemplate it.
Charlotte sat with Hannah in the Thornton Downs kitchen, a large, near empty chamber of cold stainless steel, which perfectly suited Charlotte's mood. A concerned Hannah placed a supportive hand on her shoulder.
'Isn't there anything you can do?' Hannah asked Strudworth.
Wringing her hands, Strudworth paced, her long legs traversing the room in about four strides.
'I wish there were.'
Charlotte took up the tale for Hannah's benefit.
'This man, O'Regan, says he sold Leila to some stranger at the Salt Flat Fair. He didn't get a receipt, a car number plate, nothing.'
Hannah tried to be positive.
'Somebody must know him. What we need is an article in the paper with a photo of Leila.'
'Good thinking,' said Strudworth. 'I'll have a word to Lance Weymouth. He writes the sport section for The Clarion.'
A glimmer of hope flickered in Charlotte – that would be a good start.
'How often does it come out?'
'Every Thursday.'
The flickering hope was smothered by a wet blanket of despair. Thursday was four days away.
'She could be interstate by then. Or ...' she hesitated, not wanting to think about it, 'worse.'
'Maybe we could ask the radio to help?'
Hannah tried to sound enthusiastic. There was only one radio station anybody listened to in the area but describing Leila was nowhere near as good as showing a picture of her. Still, if the man who bought her lived locally, it might work.
'I shall get onto that.' Strudworth bowed her head as she stood before Charlotte. 'I'm really terribly sorry, Charlotte.'
'I blame myself. Todd and I could have gone straight there instead of waiting for you to get back. At least I could have told Leila not to worry.'
Hannah and Strudworth exchanged looks. The elder of the two put herself forward as spokeswoman.
'Dear, Leila is an intelligent horse but a horse nonetheless. She would not have understood what you meant and you may only have distressed her more when you turned up and then left her alone again.'
In her gloom Charlotte had forgotten that nobody else except her knew Leila could talk. She chose not to raise the fact now. Miss Strudworth stood.
'There's really nothing more we can do tonight. I suggest you try to get a good sleep. Tomorrow you have classes.'
There was no way Charlotte would be able to concentrate on school work. Her feet took her towards the door but she was moving as if in a dream. She stopped on the threshold, forced to give voice to her deepest fear.
'What if we can't find her? What then?'
Strudworth sighed.
'I'm afraid you will have to select another mount. As hard as it is, you can't let this setback interfere with your training.'
Setback! Losing Leila wasn't a setback, it was a tragedy. Charlotte had lost her mother, now it looked as though she was going to lose her closest friend. Her distress must have been obvious. Strudworth was as gentle as Strudworth could be.
'I know how you feel but there's no point wallowing, Charlotte. Life goes on.'
But right then, for Charlotte, it didn't. Right then, life had stopped cold.
This was the pits. Tied to a tree, Leila had slept in snatches only. Every time sleep had tried to settle on her, a rustling in the bushes had frightened her awake. She had no idea what caused it – kangaroos, possums, snakes, dinosaurs. Out here anything was possible. A cold breeze had come up a few hours ago. Nobody had thrown her a blanket and she was too far from the fire for it to help. Now her back and neck were stiff. The sun had risen half an hour ago but still hadn't been able to penetrate the thick canopy of leaves. Two brightly coloured parrots sat on a branch, chirping. Fine for them. A pang shot through Leila as she thought of her old parrot pal, Feathers, back there in Hollywood. What she wouldn't give for Feathers right now. Like Leila, Feathers could talk human. He could fly off and find Charlotte, lead her back to wherever this was. Her train of thought was disrupted by a stirring in the tents and then coughing and spluttering as men appeared. Leila's stomach growled. It must have been loud because a tall man turned towards her.
'Has anybody fed the horse?' he asked.
No. Nobody has fed the horse, she wanted to say. The tall man walked over to a small truck. Drums of something filled the back tray. He hoisted one up and walked over.
'Here you go, girl. You're going to need your strength.'
Leila didn't like the sound of that.
He popped the top of the small drum. Oats had never looked so good. Leila hoed in.
'Hey, steady on, sweetheart, don't need you getting indigestion.'
He yanked the bucket away. Leila swallowed. He put the bucket back.
'There's a good girl, nice and slow.'
The bald man who had brought her in last night emerged from a tent on a satellite phone. Tommy Tempest had one he always used on location.
'We'll be cutting down another batch today. No, nobody has been through. The ranger won't be back for a week, by which time we'll be gone. Make sure that money is in my account.'
He ended the call and inhaled the morning air. There were now five men all standing around the fire, making coffee and eating cereal. Leila couldn't resist the urge to get her nose in the cereal packet but she was still tied and the rope jerked her back hard.
'This horse is a real pig,' said the tall guy.
The bald man ignored him.
'Leave her be, Jimmy. We got to get the truck ready.'
The other men walked with him to a grove of trees. The bald man reached up to the trees and yanked. To Leila's surprise the grove of trees crumpled and fell. She realised then that the 'trees' were camouflage, painted trees with real leaves stuck over them to give the illusion of a forest. She was now staring at a very long semitrailer loaded with logs, which had been freshly sawn. She began to grasp what was going on. The only reason these men would have hidden the semitrailer would be because they didn't want it discovered. They didn't want it discovered because it must be illegal. She thought back to the conversation the bald man had on the phone. He had said the ranger wouldn't be back for a week. Putting two and two together Leila came up with this: the guys were logging trees illegally, probably from a state park. The good news was that the chainsaws weren't going to be used on her.
At least, not yet.
The bad news was that a world without trees wasn't much fun. Well, except for maybe Vegas for a weekend. She'd had to do the odd movie shoot in Bakersfield so she knew all about hot and dusty wastelands. But where did she fit into this operation? What did they want from her?
'You better get her into the harness,' the bald man called over to the tall man, Jimmy, whose face was not unlike a kangaroo's. Small eyes and a long nose.
Harness? As Jimmy moved towards her, Leila suddenly understood what her job was going to be. She was going to have to drag the trees they cut down to the truck. She tried to resist but it was too late. Jimmy already had a bridle over her. Leila wanted to weep. Why had she ever decided to stay in this horrible country?
It was impossible for Charlotte to concentrate in class. For a start she had been unable to sleep a wink all
night so she was tired. Then everything the teachers said or did reminded her of Leila. Mr Craven had them reading from a book about two sisters who separate and go on to lead very different lives and barely recognise one another when they meet many years later. That was all she needed. Even Maths presented no respite. The numbers on the board all seemed to be code for something to do with Leila.
1: Leila was Charlotte's number one friend.
2: The two of them, Leila and Charlotte, a team.
3: The number of cheeses on pizza Leila loved.
4: The number of gorgeous legs Leila possessed.
And so on. Charlotte sighed as Miss Batt announced the end of the class. Hannah came over.
'Try and cheer up. Strudworth might have had some success with the radio.'
Hannah had a point. Rather than take morning tea Charlotte thought she should see if Strudworth had any news. Hannah said she would come for support. Charlotte was pleased she had somebody to share her feelings with. They climbed the staircase and walked down the hallway. As they approached Miss Strudworth's room, they became aware of her voice, raised and unusually shrill.
'No insurance? No insurance? What were you thinking?'
She heard Chadwick's stammering reply.
'I was saving you money.'
Charlotte and Hannah exchanged looks. What to do? Normally Charlotte would have withdrawn when she heard adults having some business conversation but she simply had to know about Leila. She knocked. Strudworth's voice, frayed, came from the other side of the door.
'Yes?'
Charlotte opened the door and looked in to find Chadwick and Strudworth facing one another.
'I'm sorry to interrupt, Miss, I just wondered if you had any news yet?'
Strudworth's hands moved around.
'I'm so sorry, Charlotte. I have not had a chance. We have something of a crisis here.' Strudworth rolled on, Chadwick shrinking with each word.
'It seems my nephew decided not to renew our insurance cover. And, as you know, Lucinda's father is a lawyer who specialises in damages.'