There had to be some way to identify the man. She walked back to the driver's door and peeked in the window, holding her hands to the side of her face to cut out the glare from the streetlight.
The cab had a bench seat, and the keys dangled from the ignition. There were a few lolly wrappers and empty soft drink bottles on the floor. Behind the driver's seat was a narrow space. There was no legroom, but there was enough of a gap for the driver to crawl in, stretch out, and have a sleep on a long journey. It looked like it was lined with a thin mattress for this purpose, and there was a chequered blanket and a few crumpled items of clothing. There were also pieces of paper, A4 in size. They might be letters, and if they were, they might have a name and address on them.
When Shelby opened the door the cab interior light came on. She gasped, and shut it again, pressing the door gently until the latch fastened. She squatted down and crawled around the front of the truck, peering up the driveway. If he had seen the light then she might need to run. She waited for a moment, but she couldn't see Mr Morgan, or hear his footsteps.
Shelby closed her eyes and thought hard. If she went back to the house now then he would get away again, and they still wouldn't have any idea who he was. She could wake up Lindsey's mum and ask her to follow him in the car, but Shelby doubted that she would do it, given how cross she'd been earlier.
If she climbed into the cab, grabbed the papers and jumped back out again, they would at least have a clue to work with. If she was going to do that, she needed to do it fast. He might be on the way back right now.
Shelby stood up again and put her hand on the driver's door. She licked her lips. Her face felt hot and she breathed heavily.
She counted to three and opened the door. The light came on again and Shelby leaned inside the cab. There was no way that she could reach into the back from where she was standing. The cab was too high off the ground. She climbed up so she could put her knees on the driver's seat and the door swung closed behind her, hitting the soles of her feet. The interior light turned off, and Shelby groped in the dark where she knew the papers to be. Her fingers touched the papers and she snatched them. Shelby pushed the door with her heel, but it had caught. She twisted around trying to feel for the internal door handle.
Just then, the interior of the cab became much brighter. Out the passenger window she could see the arena lights come on inside Lindsey's property. The lights were high in the air on long poles and pointed down to the sandy arena, shining very brightly like lights at a football field.
Next she heard footsteps – running footsteps along the road. They were heading this way. Shelby dived through the gap to the place behind the driver's seat, and as she did she could feel the truck rock from side to side. She lay down flat and pulled the blanket over her body. She managed to get it over her head and shoulders when the driver's door opened and Mr Morgan jumped inside. He started the truck, thrust it into gear and it moved away down the street.
Shelby lay still, her heart beating so fast that she thought Mr Morgan would be able to hear it, even over the noise of the engine.
This was not part of the plan. This was not anything like the plan, and nobody – not even Lindsey – knew where she was.
22 Winging It
The truck wove along the empty streets. Shelby tried to remember each turn they made, but every time the truck swung to the left, the top of her head banged against the cabin's vinyl side, and she couldn't tell whether they were joining a new street or just going around a bend in the road. She tucked her chin to her chest, closed her eyes and thought about her mum.
The blanket was scratchy. It smelt like off milk and dog. Shelby was itchy all over, and she had a horrible idea that it might be covered in fleas. She wanted to move and scratch, but she was sure that even the tiniest movement would give her away.
Mr Morgan cleared his throat, the seat creaked, and then the radio came on. He flipped through the channels. The speaker was right behind her ears. She touched the speaker's wire mesh and could feel it vibrate against her palm.
The sour-milk smell was making her stomach churn. Shelby pulled the blanket down from the top half of her face and took a breath of the relatively fresh air. Mr Morgan's clothes carried the scent of lucerne hay. He didn't smell like a bad man. He smelt like horses.
Shelby wondered what she would do if Blue was wherever they were headed. She didn't have a halter, a bridle, or even a rope. If they were in the bush she could ride him bareback, hold onto his mane and steer him with her legs. She'd done it before in the paddock hundreds of times, but along the road was different – especially after what had happened with Brat. Poppy – she had to start remembering her with that name.
What if Blue was different now? What if this man had been cruel to him and he'd lost his trust in people? Shelby bit her lip hard.
Then a worse idea crossed her mind. What would she do if Blue wasn't there?
On television kids caught villains all the time, and while the music was scary, they hardly ever stopped to think about their mums. When the baddies caught them they never cried. They were always brave and used their brains to get out of trouble, but Shelby was finding it hard to think because her heart was still beating really fast, her muscles felt sore from lying at a funny angle and there was a ringing in her ears that could have been from the loudness of the speaker but might also be because she had been so scared for such a long time.
The truck hit another pothole and she could feel pins and needles streak up her arm. The papers she'd grabbed were in her fist. She couldn't look at them yet. He might hear her. She hoped the truck would stop soon.
Out the window Shelby glimpsed streaks of orange between the branches of the highest trees. It would be light before too much longer, and she was sure that her hiding place would be discovered.
Lindsey was probably awake by now. She always got up early to feed the horses. Shelby wondered if she would get in even more trouble from her mother when they found Shelby was missing. She wondered if Lindsey had seen Mr Morgan when the arena lights came on. Maybe they had called the police already?
She wished Lindsey was with her. She wasn't all that much fun at a party, but when there was a problem Lindsey always seemed to make calm and sensible suggestions. She was also very strong with all the lifting and carrying she had to do around the stables. Shelby would have liked to have someone tough with her. She'd feel a lot braver then.
Mr Morgan slowed the truck down and took a sharp turn. Suddenly the road was much rougher. The engine grunted as it crawled along. Shelby could hear the crunching sound of the wheels over gravel, and the 'tink' noise of pebbles hitting the underside of the vehicle. The branches of the trees overhead scraped along the roof.
They stopped and the front door squeaked as Mr Morgan opened it. He left the engine running. Shelby tipped her head back to risk a peek out of the side window. She saw him opening a heavy metal gate.
Beyond the gate she saw a cream-coloured weatherboard house. Even from here she could see that the paint was flaking. There was a small garden at the front of the house that might have been attractive once, but was now overgrown and weedy. To the right of the driveway and extending down the side of the house was a paddock, and she could just make out a swishing horse tail. Blue was there. She was sure of it.
Mr Morgan dragged the gate across the drive, and as he returned to the truck, Shelby ducked down, pulling the blanket over her head again.
The truck swayed as Mr Morgan climbed back inside, drove through the gate and up the driveway. He stopped to close the gate behind him, and then swung the truck around sharply in front of the house, where he turned the engine off. Shelby could hear a dog running across the gravel, barking, and it jumped up – its claws hitting the window above her head. Shelby wondered if it could sense her.
'G'day, Rusty. How are ya, boy?'
Shelby lay still. She could hear Mr Morgan talking to the dog as he disappeared behind the truck. After she was sure that he wasn't going to
come back, Shelby wrenched the blanket away from her face and took a deep breath, relieved to have the stench away from her nose and mouth.
For the first time in what seemed like an eternity Shelby moved her legs. They were stiff and numb. She had no idea how long they had been driving, but she believed – hoped – it hadn't been so long, because if they were not far away, she might recognise where she was and be able to find her way home.
She pulled the papers out from underneath her body and looked at them. It was just junk mail – a flyer for a plant sale and one for roof repairs. She scrunched them up. It didn't matter any more. She would find Blue and they would go home together.
Shelby crept forward and peeked out of the window on the passenger side. Mr Morgan had his back to her as he stood at the front door of the house, fumbling with his keys. The dog – a lanky German shepherd – was next to him and Mr Morgan stroked its ears. After a moment he found the right key and opened the door.
'Not you, Rusty,' the man said, shutting the door before the dog could get inside.
Shelby sat back on her heels and thought. She couldn't keep hiding in the truck. He might not have seen her the first time, but it had been dark. She was sure he wouldn't miss her a second time.
Her hands were clammy. She wiped them on the thighs of her pants. She looked out the passenger side window again. She should run away. It might be possible to run down the driveway without him seeing. What about the dog? He didn't look vicious, but he would probably bark at her when she climbed out of the truck. She would have a head start, but Mr Morgan's legs were longer. He would be able to catch up, and then what would happen?
Shelby sighed as she admitted to herself that she was too frightened to get out of the truck. She just wanted to be at home on the lounge with her parents on either side of her, and perhaps drinking a tall glass of chocolate milk.
Finally she slipped over to the front seat, keeping a close eye on the house, but there was no movement. She carefully opened the door and slid out. As soon as her feet touched the gravel of the driveway the dog started to bark. She felt cold adrenalin blossom in her belly and for an instant she was frozen to the spot.
'Shut up, Rusty!' came a muffled voice from inside the house. Shelby stood still and after a moment the dog trotted around the side of the truck, wagging his tail. She held out her hand and the dog moved towards it, sniffing and licking at her fingers. He let out one more yap and then stayed silent.
Shelby tiptoed around to the front of the truck. There were flimsy curtains over the front windows, but Mr Morgan would still be able to see through. She glanced over her shoulder to the driveway again. Her thoughts were all a big jumble and she didn't have time to properly think one through before another tumbled around in her head like clothes in a dryer.
She could start running. If she got up enough speed she could probably straddle the gate like they did with the pommel horse in PE. She could see herself swinging over it, legs straight and muscles taut like the gymnasts in the Olympics. But what if it was higher than it looked?
She could go through the paddock. That would mean that the truck was between her and the window of the house for most of the way. She could slip through the fence at the far end.
Once she was out on the road she could find a street sign and memorise the location of the house. She might be able to convince her parents to bring her back here to ask the man about Blue, or she could tell the police. She would worry about all of that later. Now she just wanted to get away.
But what if Blue is in the paddock – right here, right now?
Shelby knew she would regret it later if she didn't at least look.
She peered around the side of the truck. There was no movement from inside the house. She took a deep breath and scurried across the gravel to the side of the house. The dog ran along beside her, wagging his tail. Once she had made it she leaned her back against the wall and let the air out of her lungs. She waited but there was no sound from inside.
In the paddock at the side of the house five horses stood dozing. Two of the horses pricked their ears towards her. One of them was Blue's height, but it was chestnut, and much stockier and thicker around the neck; it looked like a Welsh pony.
No Blue.
From here she could see the opening to the shed at the back of the house. Bales of hay were stacked in the corner, and there was a ride-on mower. Behind the shed was thick with scrub. It looked as though the place backed onto some sort of bush reserve. If she could get through the fence there, she could stay hidden in the scrub while she worked her way around the property boundary and back to the road.
Shelby sprinted across the weedy back lawn, towards the bush.
Suddenly she heard the back screen door squeak and she turned around. Mr Morgan stood with his hand on the lever. He frowned when he saw Shelby.
'You!' he said.
He took a step towards her.
She moved backwards. A few sticks crackled under her feet.
'What are you doing here?' He didn't look angry, just confused.
Rusty started to bark and Shelby could hear the crackly sound of tyres on the gravel driveway at the front of the house. Mr Morgan turned his head towards the sound. 'Who's that?' he asked.
Shelby didn't wait to find out. She turned towards the scrubby bush and ran. She ducked under the fence and, hearing Mr Morgan's footsteps running towards her, pushed through the thick branches with her arms protecting her face until she found a narrow trail. Then she ran along it as fast as she could, until her lungs were sore and a deep stitch was buried under her ribcage.
23 Bandicoot Bait
The narrow path zigzagged through the scrub. It must have been an animal track because it was only cleared low down and the branches of the bushes thickened at chest height. Her arms were raw with scratches, and her eyes watered with the sting from twigs whipping back into her face.
Shelby still thought she could hear Mr Morgan pursuing her, crashing through the bushes and breathing raggedly only a few paces behind her. He might have followed for a little while, but after that it was just her imagination. There was no crashing sound except for the swinging of branches that she had thrust out of her way.
Eventually the trail widened, and she stopped to catch her breath on the edge of a long cleared strip of land with tall, metal, X-shaped power poles running down a gentle slope to the left, and up over the crest of a hill to the right. Weaving underneath was a dirt road, which must have been used by the electricity company to maintain the power lines.
The sun was getting brighter and the first cicadas began to screech from the trees above her. Shelby could tell from the heavy stillness of the air that it was going to be a real stinker of a day.
Shelby trudged to the top of the hill, and when she reached the top she stood with her hands on her hips looking over the valley below. It took a moment to get her bearings, because the morning sunshine hit her face on the left-hand side, and she was used to it being on the right. She must be at the very far end of the gully, near the abattoir. The stables must be somewhere across the other side, and to the right.
If she followed the power poles into the gully until she reached the creek, she could continue along the water until she reached the causeway. From there it was merely a matter of walking up the hill to the stables, or taking the slightly longer route back to her house. Shelby smiled to herself. She would be home before lunchtime. Hopefully her mum would make hot dogs with tomato sauce. She could eat about ten of them.
Shelby put her head down and started the long trek home. There were lots of pebbles, rocks and gravelly mounds of angry-looking ants. She had to choose her path carefully. She didn't want to twist her ankle again with such a long way to go.
Further along the road she saw a lizard basking in the morning light. She was watching her feet so closely that she almost walked over it. She let out a little surprised 'ooh!' and skirted around it, but it didn't move. Further along a lone grey kangaroo stood on the edge of t
he clearing, but as soon as it saw her it bounded away into the bush.
Shelby was feeling so much better that she sang a song. She started with some Beyonce, and then The Corrs. She knew no one could hear, so she really let loose. After that she belted out a Red Hot Chili Peppers song, jumping up and down, nodding her head and swinging an imaginary microphone stand.
Suddenly she heard a noise over the cicadas and she stopped, blushing, and glanced around, wondering if anyone had seen. At first it sounded like the rapid-fire buzzing of a trail bike or a chainsaw, but then she saw a helicopter. She stopped walking and looked up, shading her eyes with her hand. It was unusual, because they didn't normally fly so low.
Another few minutes down the road she stopped again. The wheel ruts of the service road swung around in a tight loop and the power lines dipped to another pole further down the hill. Underneath, the ground dropped away, and she found herself standing on the edge of a small cliff made up of boulders packed closely together. At the bottom the dirt road started again, and continued on into the gully.
'Hmm,' she murmured. It was very steep. She might be able to climb down using the boulders for footholds, but what if one of them came loose? She could imagine the whole thing crashing down and leaving her broken and bleeding beneath. There had to be a way around. There was impenetrable scrub on the right-hand side, but on the left there was another low animal path, like the one she had followed from the house.
Shelby bent over double and made her way along. Every now and then she saw a hole in the ground, about as round as the tips of thumb and index finger touching, and she eyed each one warily. Snake holes on a hot summer's day. She hoped the occupants were asleep, or busy elsewhere.
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