With a sudden movement, Gemma picked up the book and threw it towards Paige, simultaneously jumping up from the couch. At that moment the kitchen door flew open and Craig tore in, with Dave close behind. Craig disarmed Paige with a swift movement and forced her to the ground, cuffing her hands behind her back.
Dave went to Gemma. 'Are you okay?' he asked, his hand on her shoulder.
Gemma nodded mutely as Craig began cautioning Paige.
'How did you . . . ?' Gemma tried to get the words out. 'Paige . . . She organised it all.' Gemma covered her face with her hands as Paige let out a bonechilling howl.
'We've had her under twenty-four-hour surveillance since we read Adam's letter. We thought she'd be at the pick-up on Friday night but she wasn't, so we stayed on her tail through the weekend and followed her out here this morning. Pleased we did. We got most of her confession on tape. It's all over now, Gemma.'
Gemma started to cry.
Epilogue
Gemma looked at Craig as she walked towards him down the aisle. He smiled at her but Gemma saw his eyes slide past her to Jess, who walked behind in a simple wedding gown made of satin. Taking her place at the side of the altar Gemma glanced over at Ben, who stood uncomfortably in his suit holding the wedding ring for Craig to place on Jess's finger.
After making the decision to sell Billbinya, everything had seemed to fall into place. Her dad had decided he didn't want to farm anymore. In fact, that had been the discussion he'd wanted to have with her in the hospital the day of his heart attack. 'I'm too old. I want to travel and enjoy my life,' he'd said. 'Take on Hayelle. You'll do well and your life won't be as stressful!' She had taken him up on his offer.
Gemma looked at Craig and Jess and thought about how their relationship had graduated from a friendship to a full-blown love affair. Gemma had never seen Jess bowled off her feet the way she'd been with Craig. Craig had returned to Perth and for a while the two had commuted back and forth, but at Ben and Gemma's wedding a year and a half before, Craig and Ben had sprung a surprise on both the girls.
Ben was leaving the stock agency to live on Hayelle with Gemma. He'd sold his farm in the south, knowing he'd never go back there again. He belonged with Gemma. So there had been an opening in the agency. Ben lent the money from the farm sale to Craig, who had become a great mate, and Craig had bought into Hawkins and Jones. It now was Hawkins and Buchanan. Gemma could still recall the excitement on the men's faces when they had told the two girls.
Before she left Billbinya Gemma had two final things to do. Needing to settle the question in her mind, she had plucked up the courage to ring Mike Martin from the Australian Transport Safety Bureau. Mike had told her Adam's accident was just that. An accident. There wasn't any evidence to suggest foul play. Gemma had smiled to herself when she hung up the phone.
She had then collected the box that held all of Adam's secrets and climbed the rungs to the cavity in the shed, where the box had been found. Gemma had pushed the box as far back as she could and climbed down again. It wouldn't hurt her again and she could now banish Adam to the back of her mind, where he belonged.
Bulla and Garry had waved her goodbye after she had secured their jobs with the new owner, but often called in to see her and Ben on Hayelle.
Out of the whole horrible saga, Rose was the one she felt for. Ned had never regained consciousness before he died, but hung on to life for another three weeks after the raid. Rose had packed up the house and moved to Adelaide to be near her brother's family.
Looking around at the other wedding guests, she could see Pat and Kate, holding hands. They had finally tied the knot after Kate had recovered from her fall. Gemma's mum and dad had made the pilgrimage from Adelaide back to Pirie for today's wedding. Leisha and her family were still in Canberra and Gemma's three nieces were excited about the thought of baby cousins to play with!
She had found her soul mate, still had her cattle, and her life would become richer by having a baby.
Hearing the laughing and clapping, Gemma watched Jess and Craig kiss. Ben winked at her over their heads as Gemma quietly thanked God for everything she had.
Gemma felt the baby move and her hand automatically went to her swollen stomach. Ben, noticing the movement, looked at her lovingly.
Gemma sighed with contentment. The bad dream of three years ago was nearly buried in her mind.
Postscript
Stock 'rustling' or 'duffing' is entrenched in the fabric of Australia's history. From the convicts to the bushrangers to the modern-day criminals, such as Adam, Brad and Jack, stealing other farmers' stock has been an easy way to make money. It's also very hard to prove who is responsible for the theft.
With the rising costs of diesel and fertiliser, it isn't only stock that is now targeted. It's anything from machinery to fuel to wool. Rural crime costs Australia $70 million per year and the frightening thing about this statistic is that only 60 per cent is reported.
Acknowledgements
Firstly, to my husband Anthony, thank you for loving me, supporting and encouraging me, for being my friend and providing a life that is full, rich, and so much fun with you beside me.
To my gorgeous kids, Rochelle and Hayden, thanks for making me laugh (and growl occasionally) and showing me that life isn't as serious as I thought!
Carolyn, thank you for being there from the start. The strategic-planning meetings over coffees, the phone calls (complete with kid interruptions from both sides!) and lunches were vital to the plotting of the book. Also, thank you for being my dearest girlfriend.
Jeff Toghill, my tutor and mentor, thank you for your support, encouragement, and belief in me and my work when I didn't even believe in myself.
To Dave and Bob from the Rural Crime Division in Perth, thank you for willingly talking to me about rural crime and reading sections of the book for their authenticity. Your help has been tremendous and you have made this book bona fide.
To Mum and Dad, my brother Nicholas and his wife Ellie, my sister Susan and her husband Nathan, thank you for everything. For loving me, encouraging me and understanding me – especially on my 'blonde' days! Susan, thanks also for reading the first draft and for your insistence that I finish it so you knew what happened!
Thanks to all the 'in-laws', Mrs McDonald, Sharon and Ron, for their support, love, encouragement and interest. I'm grateful for our friendship.
To my walking, talking thesaurus and dictionary, friend and spiritual director Mrs Mackay – all the big words in this book are because of you!
To my wonderful friend Sandy, who helped babysit, clean, pray, talk and who drank wine with me whether it was needed or not – thank you.
Thanks also to my mates Amanda, Marie, Tiff and Gill for reading the first few chapters and the feedback, for the phone calls and keeping me in touch with things. To Bee who also read the first draft and encouraged me forward. Also to Robyn who is always on the end of the phone.
To my unofficial editor, Shelley; Louise, Ali and Siobhán didn't have as much work to do on grammar because of your input.
Gratitude to my cousin, Tanya, who helped me the whole way, while busily writing her own book.
To Ali Lavau for the edit – wow! What an experience and learning curve, but I loved every second.
Louise Thurtell from A&U, thanks for this amazing opportunity and your visit. I feel very privileged. Thank you for your encouragement and making my entry into the publishing world so enjoyable.
Siobhán Cantrill from A&U, thank you for answering my endless phone calls, questions, and queries and for never once making me feel like I was interrupting your work or was a pain in the neck! I've really enjoyed our conversations and laughs together and I'm so grateful for your reassurance and steadying hand.
Last but not least, I thank God for this opportunity and I know it is because of Him and only Him that this has happened.
Extract from Fleur McDonald's upcoming novel, Blue Skies, available in April 2010
Chapter 1
Brian took his eyes off the road for only a moment. But that was all it took. The steering wheel tilted towards the edge of the road, the gravel grabbed at the front tyres, and next thing he'd completely lost control.
His wife's screams and his moan of terror stopped abruptly as the airborne car hit the ground and skidded. The sound of crunching metal and shattering glass echoed through the countryside, then everything was still, the only movement the spinning of a wheel and a broken aerial swinging from side to side. The occupants of the car were silent while above them a crow cawed.
Amanda gazed down from a second storey classroom at the people milling around the graduation hall, trying to spot her parents in the crowd. She could see her accounting professor and the dean of the university talking to her biology lecturer, amid beaming parents chatting to one another. She couldn't believe this day had come at last. After all the arguments trying to convince her father she needed to get an agribusiness degree, after three years of hard work and part-time jobs, all the while enduring the separation from her mum – not to mention the family farm, Kyleena. And now she had finally done it.
The dean had let it slip before the ceremony that she'd topped her class. Would that make her father proud? she wondered.
She smiled as she spotted Katie and Jo talking to their parents with the seriousness of newly graduated adults, looking nothing like the drunken, loud yobbos they could be when they weren't studying.
Her eyes fell on Jonno with a familiar stab of longing. He looked so handsome in his suit and tie. She'd only ever seen him dressed so formally once before – at Cory McLeod's funeral. She felt a pang of sadness thinking of Cory who hadn't made it to graduation; he'd been killed in a car accident in the first year of their ag course. His death had been devastating to all of his friends and she had taken a long time to come to terms with it.
Suddenly, the door to the room flew open, startling Amanda, who looked around to see Hannah coming into the room. Her friend looked so unlike her usual wild, straggly self as she rushed into the room, dressed in a black graduation robe and blue sash, her fly-away blonde hair swept up under her mortar board.
'Why're you hiding?' she demanded, her eyes bright with excitement.
'I'm not. I'm just watching everyone,' said Amanda, turning back to the window.
Sensing Amanda's sombre mood, Hannah moved over to the window and put her arm around her friend's shoulder. 'Are your parents here?' she asked.
'Of course! You don't think Mum would miss it, do you? I haven't seen them yet but they're always late – they probably snuck in after the ceremony started and have run into one of Dad's old mates,' said Amanda smiling to mask her concern.
'Well come on then. You can look for them later, Miss Dux! Right now I've been ordered to bring you back for the class photos and drinks.'
'And here I was thinking you cared,' said Amanda with a smile, following Hannah out of the room, switching the light off behind her.
Arranging themselves in front of the camera, the class of 2000 smiled and called out 'Bundy!', while their families looked on proudly. Between shots, Amanda searched for her parents.
Forcing a smile, she was hardly aware of the camera clicking and whirring as more photos were taken of the whole class, then a series of the dux of agribusiness with the recipients of the three agricultural awards and their teachers. As the final shot was taken of her with the high achievers from the university's other courses, Amanda caught sight of two policemen speaking with the dean. The look of shock on his face as his eyes searched the crowd and stopped on her, told Amanda the story and, without thinking, her feet carried her to them.
Seeing her friend's expression Hannah followed, motioning for Jonno to come with her. So it was that they were by Amanda's side to hear the news and gather their weeping friend to them, the graduation celebrations forgotten.
Amanda sat next to her father in the church, her mother's coffin resting on a gurney in front of them, while her uncle spoke from the pulpit. The cheerful flowers on her mother's coffin matched her mother's vibrant personality and Amanda had to close her eyes against the pain she felt looking at them atop the coffin. She could hear her mother's laughter, see her flashing eyes and feel her arms around her.
It wasn't until she felt a touch on her arm that she realised the pallbearers were making their way out of the church to carry her mother's coffin to the cemetery. She walked by herself to the hearse, tears clouding her vision.
Over the past few days, her father's rigid posture and continuing silence had been unnerving. Struggling with his grief and guilt, he had locked himself away, leaving Amanda to cope with the funeral arrangements. She felt like she'd aged dramatically in the two weeks since the accident.
She would never forget seeing her mother in the coffin, cold and unresponsive, her scars from the accident cleverly hidden. The lady at the funeral home had helped do her mother's hair and makeup, but it was Amanda who had chosen her outfit and fastened the silver bracelet that had been a gift for her fortieth birthday on her mother's lifeless wrist.
It was hard to believe that only two weeks before she'd been so full of hope and optimism for the future.
Choking back a sob, she ran to her car and sped away.
Chapter 2
March 2001
Amanda swung the pick, which bounced off the manure packed solid under the shearing shed. Despite the cold wind, a thin film of sweat covered her brow. Arms shaking she pulled up the hem of her shirt to wipe it off. Taking a breather she looked at what had to be at least about fifteen years' worth of compressed sheep dung – and she'd scored the wonderful job of digging it out. There was barely enough room to stand under the shed, let alone swing the pick.
She crawled out on her knees and tried to stand up, gasping in pain as her muscles screamed in protest. With blistered hands she hauled the full barrow out into the open, not seeing a big lump of manure before the barrow hit it and tipped on its side, its contents emptying onto the ground.
'Bugger!' Amanda shouted, unable to stop angry tears spilling down her cheeks as she swept all the manure back into the barrow with her hands. Wiping at the tears, all she managed to do was smear dung over her cheeks. Gathering herself she pushed the laden barrow over to the front-end loader's bucket, full now from her hours of work. Jumping into the driver's seat and turning the key, Amanda backed carefully out of the sheep yards and headed towards the huge pile of manure that sat on the fenceline bordering the laneway. Hitting the levers that controlled the bucket, she emptied the load onto the mound, then slumped forward, resting her head on the steering wheel.
Surely there was more to her life than shovelling shit.
It was now four months since she'd come back to Kyleena to help her dad. The death of her mum hadn't changed her plans – she'd always wanted, yearned, to come back to the farm – but her homecoming hadn't been anything like she'd imagined it would be. Her father had totally withdrawn into himself, not talking except to issue instructions. And far from being interested in the innovative ideas she had for Kyleena, he'd been stubborn and resistant. Last night had been a prime example.
After convincing her dad to let her into the office, Amanda had discovered that the computer lacked a security program. So when Brian had walked in with a cup of tea for her and wanted to know how she was getting on, Amanda had explained how important it was to have virus protection; it was one of the first things they'd learned at uni, she'd told him. His face had darkened in response and he'd slammed the mug down, sloshing hot liquid onto the desk, and stormed out of the room.
Later, Amanda realised that she should have been much more diplomatic. He'd probably thought she was questioning his office ability, implying that he was old and out of touch, though she hadn't meant that at all.
She'd been distracted all morning thinking about how she could fix what she'd broken. She was sure her dad wouldn't let her near the office again, and he'd be even less enthusiastic about her
contributing to any of the managerial decisions. It was frustrating the hell out of her that instead of utilising her knowledge of budgets and farm improvements, she was fixing rundown fences, drenching sheep and, today's glorious job, shovelling sheep shit.
Although Amanda loved her father, they'd started to clash when she was about fifteen, after which her mum had often had to act as mediator between them. Being alike in many ways, there had been occasions when they'd locked horns, the worst being when Amanda decided she wanted to go to ag college. Her father had strongly disagreed that it was worth doing, much to her surprise, since he'd attended the same college she was applying to. But when she'd called him on it, he'd maintained that ag college was no place for a woman; the social culture was too rough for his daughter.
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