by Mandy Magro
To hell with Levi Muller.
As if with urgent purpose, he took long, angry strides towards the place he’d avoided like the plague. Minutes later, he was pushing through overgrown shrubs and bushes, the twigs and branches scratching at his forearms. Fear filled him but, as if a soldier barging towards the enemy, he thundered forwards. Other than his heavy steps, silence rose from the sodden ground. All around him, the trees had grown upwards and outward since he’d last been here, and the trail he’d once known so well that he could have walked blindfolded was now unfamiliar.
Ignoring the ache in his heart, he pushed on, grunting and groaning as he heaved himself up steep embankments made by storm washouts over the years. Almost there, the path turned sharply, ducking through a thicket of trees, before arriving at the edge of the river. Years of floods had washed it out further, widened its banks, but it was almost still as he remembered it. His legs were shaking and his chest heaving when he finally reached it, the very place his and Juliette’s entire world had been turned upside down. Everything hurtled back with crushing intensity – Levi’s wicked eyes and sickening sneer, Juliette’s screams, Ben’s look of utter terror, his own overwhelming cold fear as he’d watched on helplessly – it all surged within him like crashing waves, mixing with an underlying sense of loss and grief.
And with it came an even greater necessity to bring justice to Levi and his surviving brother. What they’d done that night had been horrendous, criminal. Why should he and Juliette still be reeling in the after-effects, all these years later, when the two Muller boys were living their lives to the full, as if nothing had ever happened? As much as Juliette said she’d put it behind her, he knew she hadn’t. Couldn’t. He truly believed if she got the closure she deserved, it would help her to fully heal, as it would him. If only he knew a way to gently get her to see this. One thing was for certain: he needed to talk to the one person who might have their backs if the shit hit the fan. He’d been slack keeping in touch with anyone other than his mum and Zoe. He hoped his old mate would be able to understand why, and to see past it.
With renewed hope that he might be able to bring everything to light, he wandered to the tree he and Juliette had carved their initials into with his pocketknife. It took a few minutes of searching before he found them, much higher than they’d first been. Up on the toes of his boots, he ran his fingers over the letters, smiling from his soul. They’d been so in love, so optimistic for their future together. Two kids, maybe three, a house on his family farm, travelling in a caravan around Australia when they retired, matching robes and slippers – they’d talked and dreamt about all of it. All those daydreams were gone forever. And forever was a mighty long time to be without the one he loved with all his heart and soul.
* * *
It was almost three in the afternoon by the time Joel had wrapped things up with Dynamite, and he was starving. Juicy hamburger in hand, with a wad of napkins in his lap to catch the drips of beetroot and mayonnaise, he backed out of the parking spot he’d scored right out the front of Jacqui’s Outback Cafe. Even after all these years away, it was still exactly as he’d remembered it, and Jacqui and Fred still owned it. The painted chairs were still mismatched and the facade was dated as was the corrugated-iron sign that hung just outside the entrance, but it was good old-fashioned homestyle cooking at its finest.
Heading down the highway with Garth Brooks keeping him company on the stereo, just thinking about his next stop made his stomach roll. As uncomfortable as it was going to be, turning up unannounced on his doorstep to talk about what happened all those years ago, it had to be done. He and Juliette needed a witness, someone who could back up their story, and who better than the man who’d seen everything unfold? If it wasn’t for Ben hitting Levi over the head with the rock, Joel dared not think what might have transpired.
A little way out of town, he turned down an overgrown dirt road leading into bushlands. By the look of the GPS, it wouldn’t take him much longer to get to the address his mum had given him. She hadn’t batted an eyelid when he’d asked her for it, although she had warned him that Ben wasn’t the nice young man he remembered. ‘He’s turned a little strange over the years,’ she’d said. ‘A bit of a hermit, shall we say.’ She had a habit of overdramatising things sometimes, so he honestly didn’t know what to expect.
At the end of the rutted road, a lone dwelling on a small clearing of land proved his mother was right. Joel’s pulse quickened as he remembered his forever-smiling childhood mate, and Ben’s big dreams of travelling the world as a biological scientist. This place was a far cry from that. Looked like none of their dreams had worked out.
The rundown cottage, coupled with the cobwebs lacing the front verandah and the timeworn settee in the middle of it all, spoke volumes of the number of damns given by whoever lived here. Out front, beneath a tired-looking poinsettia tree, a pair of weathered plastic chairs and a matching round table sat on a patchy piece of overgrown lawn. A few paces from the front steps, a Rottweiler sunbaked, his eyes steely and focused on Joel. A heap of rusty old cars surrounded the outskirts of the house, and a lean-to carport that was barely standing sat off to the side of it all. Joel’s decision to get out of his LandCruiser wavered when the front door swung open and the shadow of the young man Joel remembered Ben to be stepped out with shotgun in hand, his expression unyielding.
Stepping from the driver’s side, Joel called, ‘Hey, Ben, long time no see, buddy.’ Best to make himself known quickly. He offered a quick wave. ‘How the heck are you?’
Ben squinted cautiously over the rim of his glasses. Smoke swirled from the cigarette clasped between his lips. ‘Who the hell are you?’ He started to raise the barrel of the gun. ‘And what do you want?’
Joel instinctively raised his hands. ‘It’s me, Ben. Joel Hunter.’
‘Joel?’ The gun dropped back to Ben’s side and a smile broke, revealing yellowing teeth. ‘Well, bugger me dead.’ He strode forwards, down the few steps. ‘Shut up, Bully,’ he groused at his dog. ‘This visitor is a welcome one.’ Reaching Joel, he held out a grotty hand.
The stench of stale alcohol hitting him, along with the unmistakable smell of someone who hadn’t washed for god-only-knew how long, Joel hesitated before reaching out to clasp it. ‘Geez, it’s great to see you, Ben.’ And he meant it, even though he was shocked at the state of Ben and his home. There’d be an explanation for it all, he was sure.
‘Yeah, sure is, Joel,’ Ben said with a chuckle. ‘I’m glad I worked out who you were before I put a bullet in your arse.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ Joel said with a half-hearted grin.
‘Wanna come in and I’ll make us a drink?’
Joel wasn’t keen on touching anything inside the house. ‘Oh, nah, I’m just passing through.’
‘Fair enough.’
Joel shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. ‘So, how’s life been treating you?’
‘Yeah, pretty good. I just stick to myself, and that keeps me out of trouble.’ Tossing the butt of his cigarette, he grinned. ‘Haven’t got much patience for people anymore. Can’t trust the bastards.’
‘It can get like that, hey,’ Joel said with wholehearted agreement.
‘Mmhhmm.’ Inquisitive eyes travelled over Joel. ‘So, what’s brought you back into town, Hunter?’
‘Honestly?’
‘Yeah.’
‘To bring justice to the Muller boys.’
Ben’s face drained of all colour, but he recovered quickly. ‘What the hell for?’
Shocked by the response, Joel shook his head. ‘What do you mean, what for?’ He regarded Ben shrewdly. ‘Don’t try and tell me you don’t remember what they did to us that night.’
Ben stroked the hair on his chin, pulling it into his unkempt goatee, pretending to be in deep thought. ‘It’s been a long time, Joel,’ he said finally. ‘To be frank, I don’t really remember much about anything you and I did together.’ He laughed unconvincingly. ‘Hell,
I can’t even remember what I did yesterday.’
Aghast, Joel had to fight from grabbing him by the collar and giving him a good shake. Ben had chosen the same path as Juliette and done his best to shut it all out, to pretend it never happened. ‘I don’t believe you don’t remember anything, Ben.’ He softened his anxious tone. ‘Come on, mate. I’m here. I’ve got your back.’ Guilt hammered Joel hard. He’d not only gone and left Juliette to deal with the horrors of that night, but Ben too.
‘Is that so?’ Ben turned his attention to the galahs squawking from the branches of the poinsettia tree, his jaw clenching. He cleared his throat and spat.
‘Yeah, it is,’ Joel said sincerely.
‘The way you left without a word? You’re no mate of mine.’ Ben’s grip tightened on the shotgun. ‘Those Muller arseholes made my life a living hell for years. They bullied me every chance they had. They never forgot I was the one who hit Levi over the head with the rock. Where were you then, Hunter? I’ve had to watch my own back ever since that night,’ he said, his voice trembling. No wonder he didn’t bother bathing, Joel thought. No amount of soap or hard scrubbing could ever wash away that kind of trauma. ‘I suggest you get the hell off my property and don’t bother ever coming back here.’
‘Shit, Ben, come on. I’m not the enemy here. My parents kicked me out, I didn’t have anywhere to go. I wish I could have been here for you, but …’
Ben cut him off. ‘Too little, too late, Hunter.’ He glared at Joel, as if he were the devil himself.
‘I get it, you hate me for leaving town, but don’t you think they should pay for what they did, to you, to Juliette?’
Ben raised the gun a little. ‘Didn’t you hear me? Bugger the hell off.’
‘Righto, I’m going.’ Hands raised, Joel took backward steps, his gaze not leaving Ben’s. ‘I’m hopefully going to talk Juliette into going to the cops, so if you decide to speak up about it all, I’d appreciate it.’
Ben remained silent, his finger on the trigger and the low growl of his dog as it yanked at the constraint of the chain doing all the talking.
Slowly, Joel climbed back into his LandCruiser, revved it to life and drove away. That so easily could have been his fate if he hadn’t packed his bags and crossed paths with Curly. Thank god his dear mum and sister had stuck by him, too. He watched Ben disappear in his rear-vision mirror. Joel was a lucky man.
CHAPTER
13
A stir of restless discontent had Joel climbing from his bed at an ungodly hour – dawn still only hinting its arrival. Having done a few chores around the place, including ushering Red out of his house again, and letting the chickens out of their coop, he decided to head over to see his mum so they could share a cuppa and a chat. Spotting her on the way over to the homestead, in her robe with curlers in her hair and her floral gumboots on, Joel detoured towards the training yard, where his father was atop a mammoth of a horse, skilfully getting it to walk slowly backwards.
Spying her son wandering up behind her, Sherrie turned and smiled. ‘Hey, love.’
‘Morning, Mum.’ Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he tugged her into his side. ‘Don’t you look mighty stunning this morning?’
‘Oi, you cheeky bugger.’ She gave him a playful slap. ‘I only popped out to drop off some smoko for your dad, but then I got caught up watching him.’ Reaching out, she placed a hand on his face and lightly tapped his cheek. ‘Are you sleeping okay? You look tired.’
‘Yeah, like a baby.’ A little white lie never hurt anyone, and he didn’t want to worry her any more than he already had the past eleven years.
‘If you say so.’ She eyed him a little sceptically. ‘How’d your visit with Ben go yesterday?’
‘Yeah, not too bad.’ Another white lie – they were starting to add up. The events of yesterday still sent chills up his spine. ‘But you were right. He has become a recluse.’
‘Sad, really, to see him like that.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘It wasn’t long after you left town that he seemed to disappear from society altogether. It’s very strange.’
Something scratched at Joel’s awareness – what happened that night had changed the course of Ben’s life too. ‘Any idea what made him go like that?’
‘Not sure, really. His mother says he has a bad drinking problem. The poor thing doesn’t know what to do with him anymore, and his father … Well, he reckons Ben’s idle hands are the devil’s workshop.’
‘His parents have both given up on him?’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she said softly, her eyes sad.
‘Bit like Dad when it comes to me,’ Joel said bitterly, with a tip of his head in his father’s direction.
‘Your father loves you more than life itself, Joel,’ his mum returned sharply. ‘If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so hurt that you left in the first place.’
‘Okay, fair enough, but when’s he going to stop holding it against me? Next week, next month, or maybe next year?’ Joel knew he was being tetchy, but his lack of sleep was making him a little more sensitive than usual. ‘And what am I going to have to do to get him to see me differently?’
Blue-green eyes met his, considering him. ‘When he’s good and ready it will just happen, Joel. You’ve apologised countless times over the years. It’s his turn to come round to you now.’
He couldn’t help his dismissive sigh as he glanced away from her. ‘Mmhhmm.’ He wasn’t going to be holding his breath for that to happen.
Bringing her hand to his back, his mum rubbed it as she watched her husband, the look of pride on her face unmistakable. ‘It’ll all be okay, love, you’ll see. God works in mysterious ways.’
‘He sure does.’ Joel didn’t want to get into a big religious debate right now – after everything that had happened, his faith had wavered considerably.
Leaning against the timber railings, he rested his elbows on another and turned his attention to where his mother’s was. Prancing and tossing his head, the horse was quickly pulled into line with a firm yet respectful jerk on the reins. His father rode in giant sweeping circles, bringing them in tighter, until the horse knew his rider was the one in control. William Hunter was an amazing horseman, and all ill feelings aside, Joel couldn’t help but be proud of him. Catching his father’s eye, he nodded, but his father disregarded the gesture.
Joel gritted his teeth. It cut, deep. He couldn’t stand here and be shunned any longer, not in the dark mood he was already in. ‘I’ve got stuff to do and people to see, Mum.’ He brushed a kiss over her cheek. ‘Catch you later on.’
‘Yes, okay, love. I’m off to play cards with the ladies down at the community hall.’ Her warm smile outshone the sun. ‘Have a nice day, won’t you?’
‘Will do,’ he called over his shoulder as he sauntered away.
A low whinny welcomed him as he turned the corner of the stables – at least Dynamite was happy to see him. It had been five days since he’d coaxed the reluctant horse off the float and into the paddock closest to the barn, but he and his new buddy were making headway. His head held high, and with a newfound confidence that comfort and security bring, Dynamite pranced along the fence line, trying to impress the seemingly uninterested mare next door.
Today would be the day man and horse would bond. Joel could feel it in his aching, weary bones. The heel of his boot hooked over the lower railing, without a pair of spurs in sight – he’d never put steel to a horse’s flanks – he rested his elbows on a rail of the round yard and squinted into the glorious sunrise, observing Dynamite eating his breakfast. Thankful the two painkillers he’d washed down with his morning coffee were starting to kick in, easing the pain from his lower back and neck, he was steeling himself for climbing into the saddle and being thrown out of it – quite possibly several times. It was more of a risk with his recent concussion, but it was one he was willing to take. He’d always had a good seat when on the back of a horse, but Dynamite also had a damn good buck, so anything could happen. It paid to be prepar
ed. What had made Dynamite the way he was, so mistrusting of humans, he hadn’t a clue, but it would have been by the hand of man. Joel would have to make up for some bastard’s cruelty. And he would, no matter what.
His head half buried in the food trough, the horse never took his eyes off the six-foot man over the other side. Although he’d come along in leaps and bounds, the gelding still had a bit of a way to go. But they’d get there, together. Joel was optimistic.
The shrill ring of his mobile brought Joel’s attention from his horse to his pocket. He snatched it out, shocked to see the caller’s identity. He cleared his throat, steadied his voice, before answering. ‘Howdy, Jules, how goes it?’ Cool, calm, casual. That’s what he needed to be with her.
‘Hey, Joel, I’m good, thanks.’ She sounded a little breathless. ‘I haven’t got you at a bad time, have I?’
‘Nope. Just getting ready to spend another day with Dynamite.’
‘Cool, that’s why I’m calling. How’s he going?’ She grunted, groaned, and a loud thump followed.
‘He’s coming along in leaps and bounds.’ Wandering around in a circle, he chuckled as he listened to her heavy breathing. ‘You right, Jules? You sound like you’re running a marathon.’
‘Oh yeah, sorry. Just unloading some bales of hay.’ She exhaled a heavy breath. ‘I’ll pull up for a minute so I can talk without puffing.’
He imagined her on the back of her ute, feeding the horses, and his pulse tripped. They used to do that together, here, at his family farm. Her country edge had appealed to him big time, amongst a million other traits of hers. ‘You’re at it nice and early. I thought you would’ve slept in a bit, given that you’re on holidays and all.’
