‘I haven’t seen him. How long have you been back?’ Brooke wasn’t too concerned about Jason’s disappearance. He occasionally took himself off to some quiet corner for a short while. But then she detected something in Craig’s manner. He appeared tense. Perhaps Jason had been difficult today? ‘What’s up, Craig?’ she asked as they walked down the wide hallway into the living room.
Craig rubbed his forehead. ‘I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sure. Jason hasn’t been himself today. He’s been…’ he tried to find the right word and settled for, ‘strange. No, brooding. As if something’s on his mind.’
‘Do you think he’s sick? Maybe he’s coming down with a bug or something.’ Brooke tried to secondguess what Craig was getting at. Normally Jason was as healthy as a horse, and rarely caught colds, flu or any viruses that might be going around. Still, Craig’s expression mirrored concern, which transferred itself to her.
‘Perhaps you’d better tell me about today, while we look for him.’ Then she had a thought. ‘He might have gone to the takeaway shop. He’s loves to Gino’s milkshakes, you know.’
‘We have an agreement. He always tells me if he’s going to the shops,’ Craig countered.
‘Oh, yes, I forgot that.’
They checked the bedrooms, the bathroom and the rest of the cottage, then out the back, including the shed and all the way down to the bottom paddock that bordered the creek. During their search, Craig told her about their day at Dundullimal and how Jason had asked some peculiar, totally un-Jason questions.
‘Such as?’
‘About you and the kids, implying that he’d made life hard for all of you. He kept saying it wasn’t fair and shaking his head but, when I asked him what wasn’t fair, he couldn’t explain and just walked away from me.’
As Brooke listened to Craig’s words, deep inside a tiny ripple of alarm went through her. Were Jason’s mood swings changing? Was he becoming depressed? He hadn’t been before, but if so, this was a new development and potentially serious.
‘Look, we’d better split up. Walk around the town, ask if anyone’s seen him. He has to be close by.’ She remembered that once, long ago, he had gone missing and been found under St John’s, next to the brick pylons that held up the church. He had been sound asleep while half the people in town were running around trying to find him.
‘I’ll check the church first,’ she said, ‘and we’ll meet back at the cottage in, say, twenty minutes.’
They went their separate ways, Brooke to the south of town, Craig to the north. As she walked along, asking people if they had seen Jason, it occurred to her that this was another manifestation of how difficult it was becoming to care for her husband. He didn’t usually wander off, so maybe he had got upset about something. God alone knew what might have triggered it; it could have been anything. A misunderstood word, a gesture, him taking a comment the wrong way, putting the wrong spin on things. Almost anything.
Twilight shadows had crept across the floor of the verandah by the time Brooke and Craig met back at the cottage.
‘We didn’t think to check the horses,’ Craig said. ‘Vince is fairly sure he saw Jason take off on horseback, along the back of the creek, heading west.’
‘Towards Sindalee,’ Brooke made the assumption. ‘We’d better check the paddock and the tack.’
They discovered that Adam’s horse, as well as the horse’s bridle and saddle, were missing.
‘It doesn’t make sense. It’s a good forty-minute ride to Sindalee from here. He’ll be thrashing through the bush in the dark,’ Craig pointed out. ‘But he does know the way, so it shouldn’t be too hard for him.’
‘If he’s gone to Sindalee…’ Brooke wasn’t entirely sure that Jason would have headed towards Sindalee; he could have gone anywhere, so unpredictable was his behaviour these days. ‘I’ll call Wes, just in case.’
‘It’s my fault,’ Craig said, looking guilty. ‘I should have been more on the ball. He’d been different today—preoccupied. That should have tipped me off that he might do something out of the ordinary. When we got home, I went to my room to check on some uni notes because I have to do an assignment this weekend. I left him in the kitchen, fixing himself a snack. I was only gone a couple of minutes and when I came back he wasn’t there.’ He looked at Brooke, his expression contrite. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault, Craig. You don’t have eyes in the back of your head,’ she reassured him. They both knew how difficult looking after Jason could be. ‘He will be okay. He’ll probably turn up at Sindalee starving and demand a hot dinner, or he’ll change his mind and come back home.’
She looked out across the street. Darkness was encroaching. The cottages and the shops down the road were in shadow and a faint spring mistiness was creeping through the town. She saw the bus from Cowra pull up outside the newsagency and watched the twins and two or three other students tumble out with their backpacks and cricket gear.
‘I’ll call Wes and then I’d better get dinner started.’
There. This time, as opposed to other times, she refused to let her imagination go wild. Jason would be all right, she told herself. After all, he could wander back any minute. And anyway, he knew the bush around here like the back of his hand. She was not going to worry, or worry the children unnecessarily.
When Jason hadn’t arrived at Sindalee by 10.00 p.m., Brooke became concerned. Wes talked about a search party, saying that he would organise it and an Aboriginal tracker to pick up Jason’s trail at first light.
Brooke shook her head in disbelief after she replaced the phone receiver in its cradle. Where could Jason be and what had made him take off?
She had tuned into the seriousness of Wes’s tone, though he had tried to keep the conversation lighthearted. He was concerned. She knew that spring nights in the bush could be cold. The temperature could drop to single digits, and Jason was only wearing jeans and a denim shirt, which wouldn’t be enough to keep him warm out of doors.
As she sat in the living room, watching the embers of the fire slowly die, she began to worry about his safety—really worry.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
News of Jason’s disappearance spread through Bindi Creek like a firestorm and, by 6.00 a.m. the following morning, the d’Winters cottage resembled an army command post. Senior Constable Pete Roth and a probationary constable from Carcoar had ridden over before dawn. More than a dozen men stood in groups around the outside of the cottage, their horses tethered to the picket fence. They included Ric and Nathan Stephanos, and Wes and Drew Sinclair, as well as others from within the town and properties close by. Vince was there, and Mannie from the hotel. Craig and Mannie were double-checking their trail bikes. The bikes could tackle the terrain that horses couldn’t manage. Gino and Millie from the takeaway shop had been up since 5.00 a.m. making and wrapping trays of sandwiches and fruit slices for the men to take with them. Reverend Dupayne and his wife were in Brooke’s kitchen filling thermos flasks with hot tea and coffee, and Frank Galea took the job of staying at the cottage to coordinate messages as they came in via mobile phones or police radios.
Albie, the Aboriginal tracker who worked as a stockman at Sindalee, had already been out and had picked up Jason’s trail. He told the constable and Wes that Jason had started off west, then turned south and then north. The trail got lost when the horse went over rocky ground, but Albie felt confidence he could pick it up again without any trouble.
‘Here.’ Pete Roth handed Albie a portable radio and showed him how to use the back channel to relay messages. ‘You’d better lead off and we’ll follow in ten minutes or so.’ He looked at Wes. ‘I’m going to break the men into groups of two and three and give them map grids to search. That way someone should pick up Jason’s trail by mid-morning at the latest.’
‘Where he seems to have gone is pretty rugged country,’ Ric Stephanos put his ten cents’ worth in.
‘It is,’ Wes agreed, his features serious, ‘but maybe he didn’t continue
in that direction. He may have become disorientated overnight. By daylight he could be quite lost, especially if he doesn’t recognise any landmarks.’ Then he thought of something. ‘He could have gone towards Mount McDonald, where some of the old gold mine sites are located. When we were teenagers we used to ride out there.’
‘Shit, that’s more than fifteen kilometres southwest of here,’ Ric pointed out. ‘He couldn’t have got that far overnight.’
‘You’re right, but he might be heading that way,’ Wes replied. He looked at Pete Roth. ‘It’s a possibility we shouldn’t dismiss.’
‘Okay,’ Pete agreed, and detailed two men to head in that direction.
‘Well, there’s water out there, so he won’t get dehydrated,’ Frank said.
The men nodded. It had rained last night, a heavy enough shower to make puddles, and the ground would be damp, so Adam’s horse would leave a discernible trail.
Standing on the verandah, listening to them talk, Brooke felt strangely detached, as if she were merely an observer to all that was taking place. The search—practical men talking practically about the field operation—all had a sense of unreality to it. Throughout their discussions she was trying hard not to imagine how Jason might be feeling, that he would probably be wet and dispirited and hungry. Oh, yes, he would be very hungry by now. As well, he had already missed two doses of medication, so he could be agitated.
For the life of her she couldn’t understand what had possessed him to go off like that. It was so unlike him. She sighed and tried to shake off the depression. It was likely that they would never know the reason why Jason had taken off, because, when found, Jason probably wouldn’t remember why he’d gone.
‘I’m coming too,’ she said quietly to Wes.
‘That’s not a good idea, Brooke.’
Though most of the time she respected his opinion, this time she didn’t care if he thought it was a good idea or not. ‘I can’t just sit here, twiddling my thumbs and waiting. I need to be involved. What if he’s hurt? I’m a doctor, for God’s sake, I should be there to tend to him.’
‘You’re right on that count,’ Wes agreed. He saw her pinched, tight features and the anxiety in her brown eyes, and hurriedly looked away. His heart went out to her because he knew she was suffering horribly. ‘There’s a problem, though,’ he said. ‘We’ll be covering some pretty rough country and, frankly, you’re not a good enough rider to keep up with the others. You haven’t ever spent a whole day in the saddle either.’ He shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t last the day.’
‘I’ll manage,’ she muttered, but not with as much conviction as she would have liked.
‘It’s just not practical, Brooke.’ Pete Roth’s tone was firm and took the responsibility for the decision out of Wes’s hands. ‘If Jason needs medical attention when we find him, Craig or Mannie can come back. They’ll get you to him in double-quick time on their bikes.’
Wes took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘I know you want to be involved, and that it will be tough waiting for news, but really it’s best if you stay here.’ He glanced across to where the twins stood, side by side, eyes wide in shock over their father’s disappearance. ‘It would be best for the children if you were here, don’t you think?’
She sighed. He was right. The twins would need her, and Sheridan when she came home from her overnight stay and was told, she would be very upset—doubly so if Brooke wasn’t there. ‘I guess you’re right,’ she gave in grudgingly. There were surgery matters to attend to as well, she reminded herself; sick people who needed her care. ‘You will keep me and Frank posted, won’t you?’
‘Every hour,’ Wes promised. ‘Now, we’d better get going. The sun’s up and every minute we waste is a minute we could be closer to finding Jason.’
Hugh Thurtell brought the station wagon to a halt and sat for a moment without glancing at Sharon. The airport was almost deserted, just a few staff in the small, main building going through the routine for today’s flights.
‘I don’t understand why you had to drop me here so early,’ Sharon griped. ‘It’s a bore sitting around this pip-squeak place for a couple of hours before my plane arrives.’
‘I told you why,’ Hugh said with as much patience as he could muster. ‘Jason d’Winters has gone missing and I want to help with the search.’
‘God, you’re not taking off on horseback, are you? You’ll kill yourself.’
‘No, Sharon. I’m going to Bindi Creek, if only as moral support for Brooke. I’m sure I can be of some use.’
‘I’m sure,’ Sharon replied, tight-lipped. She sat in the car for a moment, but when he made no move to get out, she did. Her expression was sour as she opened the back of the station wagon to remove her three suitcases.
She glanced across the airport fields to the low foothills in the distance. How glad she was to be leaving this place. Cowra was, after all, a hick country town in which she didn’t belong. She was going to be a great actor, there was still time. And thank goodness she hadn’t wasted herself on that emotionless block of wood, Wes Sinclair, or on Vince, a SNAG if ever there was one. What a disastrous relationship it would have been with either man. She was free now to follow her true path and it would be financially easier, because her father had settled a respectable allowance on her. That meant she would live in reasonable comfort between movie roles.
Sharon looked up at the blue, cloudless sky and felt a spring coolness in the air. Secretly, she exulted. She would miss none of it. For a moment or two she studied her father, who had taken her luggage to the front door of the building and stood waiting for her. She had grown tired of playing the dutiful daughter, too. It wasn’t her idea of a great role, but no doubt she would be able to call on the experience in future roles. She fancied that he knew it too, and probably wouldn’t miss her that much either. For years she had tried to convince herself that she fitted into country life. Now she knew better. And after all, Dad had Bethany and her brood.
She giggled to herself as she tottered over on her high heels towards him. Oh, yes, there would be enough females to look after him for the rest of his life, but not her. Others were welcome to the task.
Sharon saw Hugh look at his watch. He obviously wanted to be away, to help the d’Winters. Christ, she’d be happy never to hear that name again. She may not have won the wealthy Wes, but neither had he won Brooke. Her fleeting smile held a malicious satisfaction. It was good to know that he would continue to be unhappy. She sniffed contemptuously. Served him right.
‘Call me when you get settled in Melbourne, won’t you?’ Hugh said as he gave her a peck on the cheek.
‘Sure, Dad.’
‘You’ll come home for Christmas?’
‘If I can.’ If I don’t get a better offer.
‘Take care then, love, and I hope the movie thing works out for you,’ he said gruffly and gave her a quick hug. ‘Got to go.’
Sharon watched him walk away, and for several seconds her eyes misted over. She blinked the moistness away. It was the end of something, she knew, but refused to dwell on its deeper meaning. After all, self-analysis had never been her thing. As her father got into the car, she picked up one of her cases and went inside. Her new life awaited her.
Wes and Drew caught up with Albie, who was off his horse and on his haunches, reading sign.
‘The bugger’s zig-zaggin’ all over the place,’ Albie said matter-of-factly as his hand traced the light impression of a horseshoe in the soil. ‘He come off the rocks and went south. Then he goes west. Bloody confusin’.’ Albie pushed back his hat to scratch his damp hairline.
‘Sounds as if he doesn’t know where he’s going, that he’s wandering,’ Drew commented.
‘Right, mate. He’s leadin’ us a merry chase all over the place,’ Albie confirmed. ‘Been walkin’ his horse too, to rest it. If he’d only just stay put we’d bloody well catch him.’
From what Wes had seen, judging by the trail they’d followed during the morning, he was co
nvinced that Jason had no idea of what he was doing or where he was going. That he was completely disorientated and didn’t have the sense to stay in one place seemed obvious. Or maybe something only he understood kept him on the move.
His lips compressed thoughtfully. What was his mate thinking of? Was he trying to prove something? No. Poor old Jason didn’t have the brain power to think that concretely any more. He was probably reacting instinctively, as a child might.
Wes glanced up at the sky. The sun was almost overhead, so it was close to midday. He had expected they’d find him without too much trouble, but it wasn’t proving easy. The longer it took, the worse condition his friend would be in. Wes had been involved in the occasional search before, seen how people got after a few days being lost. Most were in a pretty sorry condition by the time they were found.
‘I’ll let Roth know that we’ve found the trail. He can close in the search perimeters. Which way is he heading now, Albie?’
‘West, I reckon.’ Albie studied the trail, then was silent for a few seconds. ‘But there’s no tellin’ if he’ll continue in that direction.’
‘Come on then,’ Wes encouraged. ‘Mount up. I want him found today.’ It was imperative that they did. Another night of exposure and his chance of survival would be considerably less.
As they headed due west, through thick scrub, he tried not to think about Brooke, but he couldn’t help it. He wondered how she was coping with the waiting, the not knowing. Somehow he knew she would cope, because within her was an admirable reserve of strength. She’d shown that more than once during the time he had known her. However, he also knew that she had been emotionally stressed for months as a result of Jason’s continuing deterioration. At that moment he made a decision. After they found him, and when things got back to normal, he would talk to her about having Jason admitted to an institution. He didn’t want to do it, and he knew that Brooke wasn’t going to like it, but they had to face facts. Even if it estranged them for a while, she had to know the score.
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