by Dave Warner
On the last word she seized her riding crop and swung it just past Chadwick's trembling nose. It cracked into a leg of the desk. On cue the phone rang. Strudworth regained her composure and answered.
'Thornton Downs, Caroline Strudworth. Oh, Mr Hayes-Warrington. How is Lucinda doing?'
From Strudworth's intake of breath, the answer was apparently not all that well. In contrast to her usual self, Miss Strudworth seemed decidedly nervous.
'I see. Of course, accidents will happen ...'
Charlotte could hear a stream of loud words from the receiver.
Strudworth was on the back foot.
'No, no, they shouldn't happen obviously ... Yes, regrettably there was a misunderstanding and our head groundsman was terminated.'
She shot a death-ray glare at Chadwick.
'Yes, I suppose that does make us rather responsible. No, I realise the ground didn't just open up like an act of God. However, all riders can expect a broken clavicle at some time in their ... Settlement? How much were you thinking?'
Charlotte would not have believed it had she not been there to see it herself with Hannah as witness. Strudworth actually turned white. She stood there frozen, the look on her face one you might expect from a snow skier suddenly finding themself in the path of an approaching avalanche. The tiny voice from the other end of the receiver called her name but Strudworth was immobile. Chadwick seemed alarmed but made no move.
Charlotte asked, 'Miss, are you all right?'
The phone dropped from her hand and clattered to the ground. Miss Strudworth followed a second later.
It was the hardest work Leila had ever done in her life. She promised herself if she got out of this she would never, ever take her life for granted, complain that the risotto was too sticky, the fried chicken too greasy, the pepper steak too spicy. She would never mutter about how tired she felt after the cross-country or how bored she was standing around in the dressage arena with a fly irritating her nostrils. Now she understood for the first time what so many horses had to suffer every day of their lives.
First the men led her to the felling area. The chirping and twittering of birds was obliterated instantly by the sound of motors being revved, then the burr of steel teeth slicing into tree-trunks. Leila watched, mesmerised by the horror of these massive trees being cut until they could no longer keep themselves erect. There was a splintering crack as the trunk gave up its last breath, then a mighty whoosh as the tree fell. Once a tree was down the men fell upon it in a swarm, reminding Leila of how, in the cracks of a pool patio, you sometimes saw one of those big stick insects on its back, dead or dying, as ants took it apart.
After the tree had been cut into sections, she became the next link in the process. The men loaded the cut tree section into the contraption she was attached to. It was like a sleigh. Leila stood there wondering what was supposed to happen next. A stinging lash against her hindquarters told her in no uncertain terms – she was supposed to move.
The bald man had struck her with a thin, bendy piece of green branch that stung even more than the Variety review which had called Thrills and Spills 'standard tween fare'. Standard! Fare! Fare was what you called the food you got in motel dining rooms or those Elizabethan-themed restaurants where people dressed up as knights. One of Leila's mom's pals had worked one of those places for years. It wasn't a desired gig. They stuck all this armour on you and put some fat diner on your back who then jousted with some other loser on a different horse. The diners couldn't control their lances and kept hitting the horses.
'Move it, nag.'
Whack. The branch bit into her flesh. Tears welled, there was nothing she could do to stop them. She tried to trot but there was no way, not with the heavy weight behind her. The harness pulled into her shoulders as she strained. The path was narrow and winding, she guessed maybe that was why the treepoachers, as she thought of them, weren't using trucks. Recent rains had made the ground slippery too. It was so hard struggling through the mud but she daren't slacken off. As soon as she slowed, the bully whacked her with the branch. How she wished she could have sunk her teeth into him.
It took her about fifteen minutes to get a log to the clearing where the truck was parked. She was puffed and hoped that she would get a break while the log was loaded, but no. As soon as she was free of the load, she was turned back around.
'Move it.'
Another sting on her backside. They expected her to trot back to the felling site. Leila couldn't help it, the tears came in a rush.
They poured from Charlotte, streaking her face. She blew her nose, tried to dab her eyes. Out of tissues again. That was the second box she had gone through today. It was nearly nine p.m. but time had ceased to have any meaning. She was sitting on the bleachers that faced the arena where she and Leila had spent so much time together. Squinting into the dark she could almost see Leila's silhouette. Charlotte hugged herself for comfort. There was a decided chill in the air. The same air Leila might be exposed to right now. Charlotte fretted. Was Leila standing in some bare paddock in the open air? What if she caught a chill? What was she eating?
Thoughts like this had forced their way into her head and set up shop all day. She had attended her classes but it was pointless, the words were a jumble and the hours passed her by as if she had been stranded in a dense fog. Hannah had got on to the radio station but Charlotte wasn't convinced that would do any good.
The sound of boots on gravel made Charlotte look back towards the main building, the lights of which fought valiantly against the surrounding black. The unmistakeable outline of Strudworth appeared. Poor Miss Strudworth. Charlotte had barely spared her a thought. After she had fainted, Charlotte and Hannah had revived her with a glass of water while Chadwick stood by, uselessly keening like a young puppy whose owners had left him for the first time. Strudworth had assured them she was fine and sent them back to class.
'Thought I might find you here,' said Strudworth. Her long legs were able to take the bleachers four rows at a time.
'How are you feeling, Miss?'
Strudworth grunted.
'Sorry for myself and, as for Chadwick, well, words a lady must not ever utter. Thank you for your help earlier.'
Charlotte saw her glance at the empty tissue box.
'Went through one of those as well,' she added. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a chocolate bar and snapped it in half. She offered one of the halves to Charlotte.
'Normally I don't encourage comfort food but there are times ...'
'No thanks.' Charlotte waved it away.
'Richards, I insist.'
Charlotte allowed herself to be cajoled into accepting the chocolate.
'You'll be pleased to know that Chadwick has gone.'
Charlotte was pleased to know that but ...
'Yes I know, it's a little late. For you and for me. For Thornton Downs in fact.'
Something in Strudworth's tone scared Charlotte.
'What do you mean?'
Strudworth munched on the chocolate bar, hazelnut, one of Charlotte's favourites. 'You've got enough worries, you don't need mine too.'
'Is it something to do with Lucinda's fall?'
Strudworth looked into the dark distance and nodded.
'Her father is going to sue me. That's what he does for a living, sue people. And Lucinda lives in an enormous house in the most expensive suburb, which means he must be very good at it. We are supposed to be insured but, thanks to that idiot Chadwick ...' Strudworth couldn't finish the sentence. She grunted instead.
'How much money does Lucinda's father want?'
'Enough that the only way I could pay would be to sell Thornton Downs.'
Poor Miss Strudworth. This was her home. Charlotte thought that losing your home would be almost as bad as losing Leila. Strudworth produced a new chocolate bar from her other pocket and snapped it in half. Charlotte didn't resist this time. Strudworth continued.
'The JOES would carry on. They don't need me for that.
They'd find somewhere else.'
Charlotte was still trying to make sense of it.
'But Lucinda only broke her collarbone.'
'Lawyers have a way of making everything extreme. We'll hear about how it ruined her dreams of a modelling career, that she'll have nightmares for the rest of her life. Believe me, Charlotte, by the time the courts have finished with me I'll be lucky to live in a stable.'
Without thinking, Charlotte reached over and placed her hand on Miss Strudworth's.
Neither of them spoke a word, they just gazed into the dark, wishing things could be how they had been just a few days before.
'Yeah, we cleared a truckload today but we're still behind.' The horrible bald man, whose name Leila now knew was Pat, was talking on the phone.
'No, I promise. We'll step up the pace tomorrow.'
Leila shuddered at those words. Every muscle in her body ached and there were deep indentations in her shoulders from where the harness had cut in. Her legs were jelly. She didn't believe she could take this for two more days. Pat ended the call and yawned. The other men had already turned in for the night. Pat placed down the phone on the tree stump by the fire, coughed, spluttered, spat in the dirt and stumbled towards the tent.
Leila was soooo tired. She could barely keep her eyes open. She began to drift off. There was something she should be thinking about. Something. If only she wasn't so sleeeeeepy.
Bing.
Her eyes flicked open. That was it. Her way out. Her eyes drifted back to the tree stump. And settled on the phone.
Chapter 12
Leila was tethered tight to the tree branch. Straining as far as she could, the stump was still a metre and a half out of reach from her mouth. She stretched her leg out ... soooo close but still centimetres short of her hoof. Time to get creative. Above her nostril was a small branch. She seized it in her mouth and tried to snap it but the noise made the men in the nearest tent stir. She abandoned that option and checked the ground around her. Behind her lay just what she needed, a metre-long branch, not too thick, not too thin. She pushed her hind leg back, trying to hook the branch back with her hoof. Just out of reach. She began to do the splits, inching closer, closer ...
Agh! After today's exertions her muscles were screaming at her for a rest. Good thing she'd done the complete Hannah Montana workout course. She was able to extend her right hind leg just enough to drag the branch to her. When it was close enough, she swung around and picked it up in her mouth. Then she turned back to the stump. It took her a couple of goes but she was able to knock the phone to the ground and then slowly drag it back towards her. Now it lay directly below her. This was her chance. She snapped the stick she had been using and prayed nobody woke.
Silence, except for Pat's snoring.
With the smaller portion of the stick she would be able to dial the numbers. But what was Thornton Downs' phone number? She had seen it written down on the stable wall above Bevans' work station, right next to the phone number for the vet. She passed it every day on the way to and from workouts. She closed her eyes to recall. Think, girl. She was back in the stable, the smell of hay tickled her nostrils. There was Bevans' work station, just a bench really. Above it were phone numbers. Blacksmith. Vet. And Thornton Downs' own number.
7 and 3. Those were the first two numbers. She was sure of that. And there was an 8 and a 6 at the end. What were the two middle numbers? Think. 5. Yes, 5 and ... 4. She was certain it was a 4. But was it 4 and 5 or ... 734586! That was the number. Taking the stick, she pressed the buttons on the phone.
Miss Strudworth was struggling with her captives as they dragged her towards the guillotine.
'Off with her head!' A voice in the crowd shouted. Strudworth knew that voice – Lucinda Hayes- Warrington. Rough hands pushed her down towards the block as the sharp blade of the guillotine retracted. It was not fair. All she had been trying to do was help out her sister. The crowd hushed. Oh no, in a second the whoosh of the blade ... but something was happening. People were turning towards the sound of a loud bell ...
Caroline Strudworth snapped awake, beads of sweat on her brow. It had been a nightmare. It still was a nightmare! But the ringing bell was real. It was the phone in her office next door. She checked the time. Nearly one a.m. Oh dear, more trouble, possibly her sister had learned about Chadwick and had a heart attack.
Miss Strudworth eased herself from her four-poster bed. She wore a long frilly pyjama pants-suit. Padding from her room and down the hallway to her office, as Zucchini's glass eyes gleamed in the dark, she picked up the phone.
'Thornton Downs.'
A young woman's excited voice, American, came on.
'I need to speak to Charlotte Richards. Urgently.'
'Charlotte is sleeping.'
'Then wake her up.'
It occurred to Strudworth that this could be a response to the radio call for Leila witnesses.
'Is this about Leila? The missing horse?'
'Got that in one, sister.'
'You can speak to me about it.'
'No. Only –'
The line suddenly went dead. Strudworth sought a response she knew would not be forthcoming.
'Hello? Hello?'
No, dead. She placed the receiver down and headed back to bed. Probably some crank call.
Leila stood stock-still, pretending to be asleep. Jimmy had emerged from his tent with a gun and was scanning the bushes right beside Leila. Pat's sleepy voice came from behind.
'What's up?'
Jimmy swung around.
'I heard a voice.'
Pat showed instant alarm. 'Saying what?'
'Couldn't tell. It was a woman. American.'
Pat grunted.
'Sure, in your dreams.'
'I'm telling you, I heard her. She sounded hot too.'
Normally Leila would have enjoyed the compliment but she was scared stiff Pat would notice his phone missing.
'Maybe it was the horse,' said Pat sarcastically before retreating to his tent.
Jimmy sighed, repeated to himself, 'She was hot.' And then returned to his tent too.
Leila breathed a sigh of relief, mega-problem just avoided.
This time Caroline Strudworth had been seized by an angry crowd and carried to a cliff top where she was about to be dispatched to the rocks below. Once more she was saved by the bell. Her eye opened and spied her clock. Nearly three a.m. She lay there, hoping the phone would stop, but it continued. She rose from her bed once more, padded to her office and seized the receiver.
'Thornton Downs.'
'Me again. I need to speak to Charlotte about Leila.'
'Why are you speaking in a hoarse whisper?'
'Maybe because I'm a horse. Maybe because it's dangerous. Quick. Charlotte.'
Something in the stranger's voice rang true for Strudworth. The caller seemed genuinely alarmed.
'Very well. But this had better not be a prank. That girl has been through a lot.'
Leila had considered speaking to Strudworth but decided it might be too difficult to explain things. Now she was worried she was going to be discovered before she got a chance to talk to Charlotte. She had waited a long time before trying the phone again. Only when the chorus of the men's snoring had reached the noise of a Harley motorbike on full-throttle had she been prepared to try again. Now as she waited for Charlotte, each second dragged by like the Oscar-winning speech of some actor you really couldn't stand.
'Hello?'
It was Charlotte's voice. For a moment Leila couldn't talk. Her throat swelled, she wanted to cry.
'Hello?' Charlotte repeated. She was not at all drowsy, having once more been unable to sleep. Strudworth had come to her room with the news of the phone call and Charlotte had galloped to the office in breathless anticipation about what could be a lead on Leila. But now there was silence.
'Hello?' she repeated. Strudworth was right behind her, listening in.
'Charlotte. It's me.'
'Leila!'
The word leapt from Charlotte's lips before she could restrain it. She flashed a smile at Strudworth. 'I mean, is this about Leila?'
'I get it. The S is with you, right?'
'Correct.' Charlotte turned to Miss Strudworth. 'Could you get me a pencil and paper please?'
Strudworth moved to her desk, giving Charlotte some momentary privacy.
'Where are you? Are you okay?' she whispered desperately.
'No idea where I am and I'm in more trouble than a film directed by an actor. And believe me, that's a lot of trouble.'
'I miss you so much.'
'Snap. But we haven't got time to get teary. I'm working some illegal logging operation in a forest somewhere. I'm the forklift. The guys here are bad news. I've got like two days before I'm Rover's lunch.'
Strudworth returned with the paper and a pen.
For Leila's benefit Charlotte said, 'Thank you, Miss Strudworth.' That would tell Leila she had company again. 'So this forest where you saw Leila. How far was it from Salt Flat Fair?'
'You knew about that?' asked a surprised Leila.
'Got there too late.'
Once more Leila kicked herself for losing it with the brats.
'Can't say how long we drove. Maybe two hours. It's dense bush. They mentioned a ranger.'
Charlotte's brain was on express speed. It might be some national park but which one? There were a number of them, each with an area the size of a city.
'Are there any birds there?'
'What's that got to do with the price of hay? I want to be rescued.'
Charlotte felt like hitting her over the head with the phone receiver.
'Are there birds? Some birds have specific habitats.'
'Oh, their crib. Yeah, there are these parrots.'
Leila described them and Charlotte made notes.
'What about water? Is there a river or lake or anything?'
Leila hadn't seen it but she had heard rushing water in the distance to the south. Leila was trying to think of anything else that could identify the location when the sharp bite of an ant on her rear fetlock made her yelp.
