by Mandy Magro
Moved by Jimbo’s reassurance, she teared up, her vision momentarily blurry before she blinked her emotions back. She forced a smile. ‘Thanks, Jimbo. I really appreciate you being here for me.’
‘Any time, hey.’
Juliette cleared her throat and gave the railing a light slap. ‘Righto, I’d better get a move on, or the day will be over before I know it.’
‘Right you are.’ Jimbo wandered back to the patiently waiting stallion. ‘Enjoy your gallivant out yonder.’
‘Will do. Catch you later.’ She padded off, passing a few more stalls before reaching Warrior’s.
‘Hey there, my boy.’ Her heart welled at the sight of him, as always. Warrior’s liquid brown eyes took her in as he turned, nickering softly. He plodded over and, pressing his velvety nose to her, sniffed and then brought his attention to her pockets.
She gave a slight shake of her head as she pushed him back. ‘Hey, where’ve your manners gone, buddy?’ Pulling out a carrot, she offered it to him.
Warrior took it from her, careful not to nip her in the process. So big, and so gentle and kind, he was. He’d arrived on her doorstep as wild and broken as horses could come, but one long look in his big brown fearful eyes and she’d known she could earn his trust and, in turn, reclaim and heal his heart and spirit. As she’d placed a hand upon his withers that very first day, feeling the shudders of his wound-up nerves beneath her fingertips, she’d whispered to him, vowing to take good care of him and to never turn her back on him because he was proving too hard to handle. And she hadn’t reneged on her promise, not even when Lachlan had demanded she get rid of the horse because his presence was an embarrassment to his family’s stud farm. She swore beneath her breath with the recollection of the argument they’d had over her refusing to do such a thing, and the week of silence she’d copped from him. Lachlan Davis could be one cold son of a bitch.
She took a few moments to check Warrior’s feet, cleaning out bits of mud and muck. Straightening, she scooped her hair back into submission, tugged her hat on, and flung herself into the saddle like a gymnast vaulting. It was time to forget about everything and to focus on the rhythmic beat of hooves and the bustle of the wind flying past her. She needed, just for a few blissful hours, to feel free.
With magnificent sunshine beating down upon her back and lighting up the specks of gold dusted through Warrior’s coat, they walked until the thick scrub gave way to open grassland where wildflowers nodded their heads in the breeze, and then, with her gentle cue, Warrior opened his stride. They galloped for gold, the rolling landscape seeming endless as the gelding’s drumming hooves raced against the wind. Pulling up near the river, they came to a stop at its edge. Sliding off, Juliette raised a small cloud of dust with her boots. She allowed Warrior a much-deserved drink as she knelt beside him, upriver, and cupped her hands to do the same. Rehydrated, Warrior flickered his lips and played a little with the water. Then, stomping in the shallows, he sprayed water in her direction, droplets now dripping from his muzzle.
‘Oi! You cheeky bugger.’ Crouched on her haunches, she smiled up at him. ‘I seriously couldn’t imagine my life without you in it, Warrior.’ She patted his neck as she stood. ‘At least I know I can always count on you to cheer me up.’
Swinging back into the saddle, she gently turned him around, allowing him free rein to open his stride. This was what she lived for – the country, her horse, and the freedom that riding brought to her heart and her soul. She needed to do more of this, more of what brought happiness to her life – and she resolved that from that moment forth, that was exactly what she was going to do. Levi Muller and his thug brothers had stripped her of her innocence that fateful night, and Lachlan Davis had trapped her spirit and sucked out her zest for life. It was time she grabbed hold of the reins of her life. To hell with keeping everyone else happy all the time. She only had one life, and she was going to make it hers.
* * *
After a night spent tossing and turning, Joel felt like death warmed up. Clearing his empty plate and coffee mug from his four-seater dining table and taking them to the sink, Joel washed them up and left them to drain. His mobile phone rang from his back pocket, startling him. After years without one, he was still getting used to it. Snatching it out, he took the call.
‘Hello.’ Stepping into the sunshine bathing the front of the barn, Joel braced himself against the verandah banister, one leg bent up against it.
‘Hi, Mr Grant. You left a message this morning, asking for an appointment with the doctor sometime this week?’
‘Oh, yes, I did.’ He’d given a false name for a very good reason.
‘Is it urgent?’
My bloody oath it is, he wanted to say, but refrained. ‘Not at all. Just when you can fit me in will be fine.’
‘Okay, great. Have you seen us before?’
The receptionist’s voice was cheery and she sounded very young. ‘No, first time.’
‘How about next week, on Monday, four o’clock?’
Joel’s heart took off at a gallop – he was really doing this. ‘Okay, yup, that sounds perfect, thank you.’
‘Great, all booked in. Can you please come five minutes earlier, just to fill in some paperwork?’
‘Yeah, sure, no worries.’
‘See you then, Mr Grant.’
‘Yup, will do. Thanks.’
Joel hung up, pushed the phone back into his pocket and, with a deep inhalation, started to prepare himself for the face-to-face visit he’d been dreaming of ever since he’d broken the son of a bitch’s nose. He just hoped he wasn’t jumping the gun, doing this before Juliette had agreed to go to the police. All he wanted was for her to trust him and to know he was doing all of this for her.
CHAPTER
11
With cooling racks of mammoth scones and her famous double chocolate chip cookies taking up every square inch of bench space, the galley-style kitchen looked like a girl guide’s bake-off. Aunt Janey was providing a lot of the gourmet goodies through her shop, but Juliette wanted to contribute to the great cause too. She’d got up early to start and was still in her pyjamas.
Cooking had always been her second love, with reading and horses coming in equal first place. Now she had almost seven weeks off for the school holidays, it felt great to be back in the kitchen as well as the saddle. Not only did it give her purpose, but it also helped to take her mind off her train wreck of a life. She felt good lending a hand for the fundraiser today. It had been a long uphill battle for her mum and aunt, but they were getting there. The government was only providing half of what was needed for the extensions on the community hall, to run a program for troubled youth. Her mum and aunt wanted to give those kids constructive activities so they wouldn’t cause havoc for the community or themselves. The project was relying on the big hearts of locals to get them over the finishing line. Juliette didn’t hold out much hope that a humble bakery stand would raise the remaining hundred thousand dollars they still needed, but it was a little step forwards.
Slipping the final tray of pumpkin scones into the oven, a firm rap at the front door fetched her from the kitchen in a flurry. Glancing at her watch as she hurried down the hallway, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her mum and aunt were early, so she still had time to look half-decent before heading off with them. Crying herself to sleep last night hadn’t done her any favours in the looks department.
Tossing the tea towel still in her hands over her shoulder, she stifled a groan when she spotted who was on the other side of the door. That’d teach her for not peeking out the curtain first. ‘Hi, Margery.’ Overwhelming perfume combined with an air of overbearing arrogance.
Margery peered past her. ‘Is Lachlan home?’
‘No, he’s gone to town to …’
‘Good.’ Margery cut her off. ‘With Ronald flying out to Sydney again today, I’ve been left to deal with this mess on my own.’ Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her gaze fierce. She took a step forwards, shoving her
way past with her walking stick. ‘Therefore, we need to have a little chat, you and I.’
Juliette’s hackles rose. Margery was the most obnoxious woman she’d ever met, but she’d learnt over the years to never argue with a fool, if she could help it. ‘About what, exactly?’ Her arms folded defensively.
Margery jutted her chin out and peered down her nose. ‘About what you apparently saw Lachlan doing.’
‘There was nothing apparent about it.’ Furious, Juliette fought back the urge to tell Margery where she could go.
The elderly woman stared back at her with pure venom in her eyes. ‘In any case, you need to keep it to yourself, if you want your darling mother to continue to have a roof over her head.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Juliette breathed.
Margery sneered. ‘Lord knows your stepfather is good for nothing other than preaching god’s word. He’d be still living in that dumpy old apartment behind the church if it wasn’t for my and Ronald’s generous offer of the house you grew up in. Besides all of that, you need to remember your vows, to Lachlan, and to this family.’
Juliette was stunned into silence. Remember her vows? She glared at her mother-in-law. ‘Really? Well, I don’t think abiding by my vows is an option when Lachlan hasn’t taken his vows seriously.’
‘Oh, come on, girly. Stop being a sook. You have a good life. An easy life, in fact, because you’ve married into this family. You’ll just have to come to your senses and find a way to get over yourself and move past all of this.’ She gave a sickening, fake, smile. ‘We need a grandbaby, to carry on the family name.’
‘I will not have a baby with a heartless man like Lachlan,’ she retorted before sucking in a shaky breath. ‘And as for keeping my mouth shut about his secret, I will, for my mother’s sake.’
Margery stiffened. ‘You’re still going to leave my son?’
‘Bloody oath I am.’ With Lachlan’s indifference and now this, Juliette had never been so sure of anything in all her life.
‘Be very careful, Juliette, with how you go about all of this or you might lose your job at the school too. You know how much money Ronald and I give the committee, so I’m sure the principal would be favourable to a small request from me regarding your employment.’
A woman unaccustomed to not getting what she wanted, Margery’s face had turned so furiously red she looked as if she was about to explode. Juliette took great satisfaction in the fact she was finally getting under her skin after all the years of being looked down on by this horrid woman. ‘You don’t scare me anymore, Margery,’ Juliette lied. The loss of her job terrified her, but it was something she’d deal with later, if it came to that. She was over all the bullying.
‘You should be petrified, girly.’ Margery’s chin quivered as she prodded a finger into Juliette’s chest. ‘You’re going to regret this. I’ll make sure of it.’
‘The whispers around this town are so true. You really do have a heart made of ice.’ Juliette stepped aside and pointed to the door. ‘Just leave. I don’t want you in my house.’
‘Your house? Ha! This place is no more your house than the church your father preaches in is his,’ Margery scoffed, casting her a disdainful frown and not moving an inch. She then huffed an impatient breath. ‘Look, Juliette, I don’t want us to be adversaries when we could be working together on this. How about if I offer you a healthy sum to help your mother and aunt with their senseless idea of a refuge?’
Her face heating, Juliette tucked wisps of hair behind her ears and then folded her arms once more. ‘It’s not senseless.’
Margery rolled her eyes to the heavens. ‘Oh, dearie me, you really are stupid, aren’t you?’ She tutted and shook her head. ‘Some people are born into this world to be nothing but trouble. The inferior are on the lower rungs of the social ladder, and no amount of helping them will change that. They’re cursed with mediocrity from birth, and that’s god’s will. Trying to help them by offering activities to do so they don’t get up to mischief is a waste of time and money.’
‘As tempting as your offer would be under different circumstances, I will not let you bribe me into staying with your son,’ Juliette said through gritted teeth – she’d hold a million bake sales to raise the money for her mum and aunt’s cause if she had to. ‘You’ve already got enough over me. I’m not allowing you any more control of my life.’
‘I’m firmly suggesting you reconsider, Juliette, because bad things happen to good people all the time.’ Lifting her head, Margery peered down her nose at her.
‘Are you threatening me?’
‘No, I’m merely offering you a word of warning. I wouldn’t want to see anything untoward happen to you or one of your loved ones.’ Margery said it so flippantly, Juliette fought the urge to slap her across the face.
‘Get. Out,’ Juliette growled. ‘Now.’
With one last stern glare, Margery did as she was asked, and once she was across the threshold, Juliette did something she’d been dying to do for as long as she could remember and slammed the door in her mother-in-law’s face. She was sick of dealing with her, of being the one to play nice, of this vile family’s lies and manipulation. Margery Davis thought she could bribe or bully Juliette into being a Stepford wife? She had a fight on her hands.
* * *
Cruising along the outskirts of town, Joel clattered over the old railway line that divided the township into suburban and industrial perfectly, as if someone had drawn a straight line down the middle of Little Heart. Grabbing another Chicos baby from the almost empty packet beside him, he popped the sugar hit into his mouth before tugging his Akubra down a little lower to ward off the sunshine beating through his windscreen. It was just shy of ten in the morning and it was already so hot he swore he could almost fry an egg on his LandCruiser’s bonnet. It was similar to the heat of the outback, although the humidity here packed an almighty punch. He wiped the beading sweat from his forehead as he shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. After a night of tossing and turning, he felt like death warmed up. And with his air-conditioner on the blink, it was either roll up the windows and swelter in the mobile metal oven or roll them down and eat dust. He’d chosen the latter.
But the stinking weather wasn’t the only cause of his discomfort.
As if on autopilot, he drove to where he was fairly certain she’d be – he wanted to somehow, someway, talk her around on seeking justice. The twice-yearly livestock sale was the talk of the town, as was the fact it was doubling as a fundraiser for the extensions on the community hall. It was all his mum and dad had talked about this morning – his mother trying to fill the uncomfortable silence, and his father doing his very best to ignore Joel was even in the room. If only Zoe hadn’t left as soon as he’d arrived back – he missed her friendly face. Always having been one to lend a hand for a good cause, especially when it had to do with her stepfather’s church, he knew Juliette would be amongst the action. As would his parents, although, at his father’s stern request, they were heading to it in his dad’s going-to-town car, without Joel tagging along. Joel was more than happy to head there on his own. He just prayed his mother was right and that his father would come around, because he couldn’t grit his teeth and bear it for too long. He’d rather go back to mustering with Curly.
As he turned down the familiar long dirt road, a small smile claimed his lips when he pictured Juliette, all countrified and ready for a day amongst bellows and shouting and dust and cattlemen. He liked the thought of seeing her in her element – she’d always loved the excitement of the saleyards. Not that he expected she wanted to lay her eyes on him. She wasn’t answering any of his calls or returning them. But they had to talk. He had to make her see sense. He knew, after her reaction at the fete, that he was going to be met with dogged refusal. But he wasn’t going to give up. This wasn’t something she could go on pretending never happened. It had broken both of them. She seemed to be forgetting that. They’d made the wrong decision, remaining quiet. It was high time
they made things right.
Just up ahead, a cattle truck stirred up a river of dust. Joel slowed, giving it time to settle so it didn’t cover the interior of his four-wheel drive. Behind him, a few vehicles lagged back too. This was probably more traffic than the dirt track had seen in six months. Now the drought had broken, cattlemen would be keen to re-stock their herds, holding onto renewed hope.
Reaching the parking area, he slowed to walking pace. Cars and four-wheel drives were packed in like sardines and he wasn’t about to drive around for half an hour to find a suitable spot. Bumping over a curb, through a bit of scrub, and then up a slight embankment, he ignored the No Parking sign and pulled up beneath the shade of a big old gum tree. Rules shmules – that’s what a four-wheel drive was made for. Windows wound up, he jumped out and strolled over to the gates. Saying a quick g’day to a few familiar faces along the way, he went to where the racket of a good old-fashioned cattle and horse sale was taking place.
Sun-bleached posts and rails surrounded the yards, and a cloud of dust hovered above the bellows and whinnies. Passing a pen filled with prime Angus steers, he shot a sideways glance down a muddy alley where stock contractors hustled their cattle into order just as someone caught his eye. It hadn’t taken long for him to spot her insanely beautiful face amongst the sea of people. Her black hair pulled tightly into a bun, and the faintest make-up on – just enough to still see the fine dusting of freckles across her well-pronounced cheekbones – she was wearing skintight jeans and a simple black shirt with the church’s logo on it. Striding towards her with more of a spring in his step now, Joel was powerless to stop his gaze travelling from the tips of her boots to the top of her head.
She offered him a half-smile. ‘Hey, you.’
