The morning sun rears its full face over the horizon and begins to warm her body. She stretches luxuriously to enjoy the sensation of being alive. Yes, she is alive! Would she be alive if Jed had told her what he was trying to do to protect her? Would she have gone willingly into the firing line and taken the bullet Decker had fired at her? Alex knew she would have baulked at the very idea. They could still be out there trying to find their way out, hunted by Decker on his terms. What a roll of the dice it had been! She recognises Jed had gambled on Decker taking a body shot to keep her alive for as long as possible so she would suffer at his whim. Not a head shot like Joe. She shudders at the memory of the red cloud exploding around him. She is free and Decker thinks she is dead.
Grudgingly, ever so grudgingly, she recognises Jed has bought her time and given her opportunity. What she does with that time and opportunity is the crucial question. Whether she will ever forgive him for the betrayal is something else. The anger inside gradually focuses in a different direction. This business with Decker has to end. She is not going to live her life in fear, wondering when he will come for her again. It has to end, and there is no one who can help her on this one. She tried the law and that worked for a while but the bastard has come back, meaner, smarter and more determined. It is going to be him or her and she is damned sure it isn’t going to be her, not without a fight!
She rolls herself into a standing position, puts her hands on either side of her back and gives another luxurious stretch. “Time to move boy!” she says to Thor, who lifts his head from the greenery he is nibbling, swings his hindquarters around and gives her two eyes. He reads the determination in her stance, smells the change in her body odour and senses it will be another big day. The alpha mare needs him and he is ready to give without question.
Alex slips the Colt into the small of her back then goes back to the waterhole. She cups her hands and splashes the precious liquid into a shallow depression in the rock surface so Thor can drink his fill. Then she drinks in turn and when she feels she has enough, drinks some more. If she doesn’t get help today, this will be her fall back position if she can’t face the unknown ride to the southeast. Knowing the water is here gives her renewed courage. She encourages Thor to the water again and when he finally stops drinking, she kneels down, slips her hands under the edge of the rock and drags it back over the waterhole. She spares a moment to look down at it and thinks about the thousands of years during which other hands have repeated the process countless times.
Reluctantly she stands and walks over to Thor on tired legs, gathering as much strength and determination as she can. She runs her hands along his flanks and down his legs, caressing him and talking quietly while checking for injuries. She finds only minor scrapes and scratches from the brush. She checks each hoof in turn and finally turns back to the saddle and checks it out thoroughly. A fall out here would most likely mean death, so she inspects everything twice.
She bends down and hefts the saddle up. It’s a traditional stock saddle made of genuine leather a long time ago. The wear and abrasions show it has seen a lot of hard use but is still sound enough to do the job it was designed for. She gathers her strength and swings it up onto Thor’s back but doesn’t quite make it. Yesterday’s effort has drained more energy than she realised. She curses her short-arse stature and draws Thor over to a flat-topped rock. From there she can easily heave it onto his back and tightens it into place. Her energy levels may be running low, but she makes up for it with determination. Finally satisfied, she turns the stirrup around, lifting her foot into it and swinging herself into the saddle.
She turns Thor, looks back the way they have come through the fading light of the previous evening and rides east for a short distance to get a better view of the escarpment. The last one had been a challenge. This one looks bad. No wonder Charcoal said it nearly killed him. But if he has done it, so can Alex!
Thor paces restlessly as Alex scans the flanks of the ridge. He can sense the tension building within her as she evaluates the options. The steeply sloping, smooth rock face above the water hole is out, as are the rough, craggy faces of red rock decorated with crazy patterns of cracks from eons of weathering. Her eye is caught by a sloping ledge to the left of one of these outcrops. She rejects it because it doesn’t quite reach down to the level of the water hole. She scans north and then south and feels a wave of depression wash over her. All she sees are smooth, steep slopes and ragged outcrops of rock.
She can head north or south, looking for a way up but that means losing time. She has none to waste. The sun has begun its unstoppable climb into the sky. Her eyes go back to the ledge slicing its way up the side of the ridge, first to the left then making a sharp turn to the right. Her eyes follow it up to where it levels out on top of the bluff. Above it to the right the slope is gentler but near the top it peters out just short of the crest. A good horse and rider might get enough momentum up the slope to carry them onto the top. She has faith in Thor and can feel the power still remaining in his muscular body after yesterday’s ride. It is herself she doubts. She hasn’t ridden for years. It is a wonder they have got this far.
Thor moves restlessly beneath her and paws the ground. He wants to go and is telling Alex he’s ready, but is she? Her eye runs back down the ledge again from top to bottom. It is tough, but possible. The first challenge is getting onto it. It doesn’t quite come down to the ground. She studies the base of the ridge carefully and the approach. She would have to jump him, over a small channel and up onto the ledge. Not impossible but bloody difficult as there is little run up. It needs a horse with power and a rider who can tap into it. Thor is a quarter horse, powerful in the rear end and used to working and cutting cattle. His acceleration should be excellent, but can she channel that power and coordinate it?
Alex walks Thor over to the bottom of the ridge, getting him as close as possible. She carefully inspects the obstacle. Caressing Thor gently, Alex starts to sing. Thor seems to like the sound or the rhythm of the song, dropping his head, half closing his eyes and relaxing his ears in response. Sensing Thor’s response, Alex’s confidence rises and the anger still simmering inside her finds an outlet. Getting over the ridge is the next step in finally beating Decker. Getting help will be the next, and reuniting with Jed will follow. Even if he has betrayed her, she needs him to get her to the final stage.
Thanks to her he has a sociopath after him, one who will not forget Jed’s role in this drama. She regrets dragging him into the mess that has exploded into her life but doesn’t allow the luxury of wallowing in the regret. There will be time for that later. She feels the anger inside her stirring unseen like the buried magma of a dormant volcano.
She turns Thor and rides as far back as possible, then forward again toward the jump. She goes back again and then more times after that, getting them both used to the approach and the decision point. Once past that point, it will be impossible to change her mind. She will be committed. Failure will mean an untidy fall onto the rocks and neither of them will come out of it well. She once saw film of the Doolittle raiders taking off from an aircraft carrier for the famous raid on Tokyo. Doolittle had led from the front, with the shortest take-off run. The similarity is frightening. Thor’s run to the jump is well short of what she would prefer but there is no other choice. She paces him backward and forward, letting the anger continue to boil as she judges distance and speed. Everything depends on her skill and judgement and the remaining power in Thor’s hindquarters.
With a final, snap decision she turns him around and eggs him on into an explosive burst of speed. She is demanding every bit of power he possesses, the equivalent of dropping the clutch of a V8 with the tacho flickering on the redline. She feels the surge of power and grips Thor’s flanks tight between her thighs as he lunges toward the channel and the ledge behind it.
Chapter Seventy-three
Jed is perspiring heavily when he finally reaches the billabong. Dark stains of sweat mark the small of his back, his
armpits and both sides of his stomach. He knows they are lucky to have water that is reasonably accessible, even if it means a decent walk each way. He is even more thankful for the plastic bottle. It is a bonus worth gold out here. He treats it gently, laying it down beside him. He steps onto the branch that allows him to reach into the deeper water of the billabong without getting his boots muddy. Why he bothers out here he doesn’t know. The stubble on his face is getting so rough that mud on his boots shouldn’t matter at all! He takes off his T-shirt, tosses it onto a shrub and cups his hands into the water, splashing it over his face and washing the sweat off his body.
The cool water refreshes him. The faint movement of air tickles its way across his skin to raise goose bumps in a random pattern of sensations. Flashing images of Joe keep trying to rear their head but daylight helps fight them off. Jed relaxes in the shade of the overhanging branches dipping toward the water. His mind drifts to Alex, wondering how she is going. She shouldn’t be out there alone. If she doesn’t make it, it will eat away at him for the rest of his life, however long that will be. Adventure has turned into a disaster with potentially devastating consequences.
A gentle ripple of water laps against the branch he is balanced on, then another. Instinctively he rears back, the muscles in his legs tightening as they thrust him backward. His right hand drops to the hilt of the knife. Out of an explosion of water, the mouth of the crocodile snaps shut with an explosive crunch as it starts to twist into a death roll, its jaws empty. He catches a fleeting vision of rough, grey skin and yellowed teeth curling up the side of a massive jaw. The stink of decay is framed for a fraction of a second by spraying droplets of water glistening like diamonds in the morning sun.
His knife clears the scabbard as he lands on his back. The primeval monster lands on the bank with a crashing thud and spray of mud. Jed twists and rolls away, catching a glimpse of the beast stepping awkwardly toward him, still hoping to seize hold of easy prey. Jed slashes and stabs with the knife. The point strikes something solid. He rolls up into a crouch, knife pointing toward the crocodile, as he edges backward, daring the beast to advance. Every instinct screams at him to turn and run but he doesn’t. Over a short distance a crocodile is fast, almost too fast for a man, so he holds his ground, daring the crocodile to leave the safety of the water.
Fear and revulsion explode inside him. “You fucking bastard!” he yells, the sudden burst of adrenalin surging through him like a tsunami. He edges sideways behind the puny protection of some fallen timber, wanting to put anything between them, no matter how fragile. The beast crouches on the edge of the billabong, tail in the water but legs splayed on solid ground. Jed keeps the knife low, holding steady. He’ll go for an eye if the beast comes for him. It isn’t that big, around three metres, but he knows a croc that size can easily take down a cow and drag it into the depths. They eye each other for what feels like an eternity. The croc sways its head from side to side, edges sideways and turns to slip back into the water. Within seconds, the ripples disappear and a quiet calm descends on the billabong. The monstrous apparition could easily have been nothing more than a bad dream.
Gingerly Jed picks up the empty bottle, his body and mind jarred by near death. He fights the aftermath of shock by focussing on the bottle. They need the water. Crocodiles move in closer and closer each time they see prey. It was a stupid mistake. He curses his lack of judgement. He has been careless, going back to the same place yet again. He finds another place to fill the bottle, thrusting it under the water at an angle to drive out the bubbles of air as quickly as possible before stepping back to screw the top back on.
Fuck! If he is going to live to a ripe old age he has to stay a lot sharper than this! He turns and starts the journey back to Charcoal, holding the bottle firmly in his hand as his arms and legs begin to shake in reaction to the adrenalin pumping through his body. He isn’t looking forward to any more trips for water. Hurry Alex! We need you! We need you badly!
Chapter Seventy-four
Thor lands with a ringing clang of steel-clad hooves and fights for grip on the rock surface. Alex rides him lightly, sensitive to balancing control and her weight, letting him have his head within the parameters she allows. The rock surface is dry and rough, allowing the horse’s hooves to find a grip and his muscular hindquarters to launch him upward. This is no place to walk. Momentum and speed will minimise the possibility of an untidy death on the rocks below. Alex has no intention of dying this day.
The surge of speed carries them up the slope toward the sharp hairpin turn they will be forced to make on an almost level shelf of rock that is a lot smaller than she allowed for. Seconds out from the turn Alex rehearses in her mind the commands she will give, like a pilot on a crosswind landing. Her judgement has to be perfect. There will be no second chance. Just as the spot comes under Thor’s nose, Alex thrusts her weight down and back into the saddle. One hand takes the direct rein out to the right to indicate direction while her left hand lets the indirect rein apply gentle pressure against his neck. With the movements coordinated to perfection, Thor stops, squats on powerful haunches, spins on his hind legs and launches himself again up the slope toward the crest that approaches in a mesmerising clatter of steel shoes ringing against the rock.
Only momentum will get them over the top. Alex lets Thor have his head. He is a horse with spirit and savours the challenge.
Just below the top of the ridge, the slope pitches up in front of them, steeper than expected. There is no alternative but to go on. Another hairpin turn to the left is impossible. Failure now will be catastrophic! She dares not look down to her right where the rock face slopes away into a void. A slip will result in a tumbling journey to destruction, smearing their flesh across the rock and smashing their bones against the jumble of jagged boulders at the foot of the ridge. Thor propels himself up with the remaining power in his hindquarters. Hooves spark fire from the rock as he scrabbles for purchase before finally dragging himself onto the top of the ridgeline. Thor comes to a stop, flanks heaving with the effort of sucking air into his lungs and legs quivering with the release of tension the effort demanded. Alex pauses for a moment to stroke Thor’s neck. She dismounts. To north and south, the ridge continues in a ragged line of rock tinged with pink, red and purple. To the east Alex has a clear view of the country they covered yesterday. She can visualise Charcoal and Jed waiting impatiently behind the first ridge, now bathed in the morning sun that has driven away the shadows. The land is painted in rich tones of red and pink, splattered by the pale yellow and dark greens of grass and trees.
To the west, more of the same country stretches away to a far horizon. Sparkles of light catch her eye, blinking occasionally among the scrub, like the faint glimmer of a lighthouse in an empty expanse of ocean. It is a windmill, pumping water from deep within the earth into a tank. She realises it is her target and studies it carefully. She can make out a faint cloud of dust drifting away on the faintest of breezes. Down among the scrub there will be no distant ridge to guide her. She uses her watch to take a bearing off the sun toward the faint cloud of dust and the flickering metallic glimmer.
The boys and the cattle are on the move she guesses and looks in despair at the slope beneath her. Riding is impossible. She will have to walk Thor down along the best route she can find. Charcoal has done so it must be possible somehow. The man can ride and trained his horse well! What trust it must have taken to hand Thor over to her. Trusting anyone is always a high risk gamble. She will not betray the trust of either of them!
Time is crucial. She can’t afford the luxury of exploring the scenery at leisure. She forces herself to see rather than just look. She scans to the left and right, working down the slope until she finds what she is looking for. A faint trail, really a line of wind-blown dust, forms a path of least resistance between outcrops worn smooth by hooves, paws and feet over a span of time stretching back into eternity. Having picked it out, she follows it back up the slope to where it starts its twisting journe
y down off the ridge.
She spares more precious moments to stroke and massage Thor’s neck as she whispers encouragement. She is rewarded by a snort and enthusiastic neigh that punches the air out from deep within his chest. It almost conveys a sense of expectation for the next challenge but cannot hide the tremors still pulsing through his body. He is fit, tough and spirited but she can sense the ride is draining him. And it isn’t over yet. She takes the reins loosely in her hands and starts down the ridge toward the plain, and the end of their cross country dash. Thor drops his head in submission and steps forward to follow her.
Chapter Seventy-five
Andy has worked cattle across Northern Australia for as long as he can remember. He is tall, lean and tanned with sinuous muscles toned by hard work over more than fifty years in the outback. His craggy features are shaded by a battered Akubra that has shared his life for decades. A straggly grey moustache hangs beneath his nose. His fingers stroke the grey stubble decorating his face as he watches the boys load cattle into the truck. It is time to move them to better feed and fatten them for sale. The boys work well as a team and he has a fatherly fondness for them.
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