“I've been thinking about that poor horse all day. Jenner was sly about how he learned Aladdin was for sale, and he clearly didn't want to reveal his business, but I should have asked whether his strapper, Hugo, arrived with the horse or not. It's strange how badly Aladdin behaves if he even catches sight of Hugo. And for someone who's supposed to work all the time with horses, he's clumsy and cold.”
“I'll ask for a background check tonight when my chief comes online. What's Hugo's surname?”
“Anstey, I think. Do you have to report in every night?”
“Of course. You didn't think they'd allow a lowly DS to run what could be a high-profile case all alone, did you?”
If she'd thought about it at all, it was in terms of Caleb running the show. He was so calm and in control, and under other circumstances, if she'd been less damaged by her childhood, she might have found him appealing. And if he hadn't unfairly arrested her and jailed two of her family. The fact she knew they deserved their punishment didn't reconcile her to the honest, decent man watching her. Schooling her thoughts, she met his gaze. “You're such a take-charge kind of man, I figured you were running the show. Do you tell him everything when you—report?”
“Everything he needs to know.”
“Will you tell him I slept in your car?”
“What possible interest could that hold for him? So you will. Good.”
Until that moment, taking Caleb's sleeping place wasn't going to happen. But her subconscious seemed to have decided otherwise.
“If you're willing to swap beds, I'm sure I'll cope inside. Thanks.” Nose tingling, she sniffed and a band tightened across her forehead. Definitely a cold. Gratitude surged through her at Caleb's kindness and, feeling mellow, she tossed off the last of her rum coffee.
“Why did Jenner touch you?”
Bang. There went mellow.
“You heard that? Of course you did. It was nothing. He touched my arm, trying to convince me to break my ride and begin training his horse. Playing on people's emotions seems to be his modus operandi. Do you still use those terms, Detective?”
Caleb grinned. “Not in this century, Sarah. And just so you know, diversionary tactics make me think there's more to the story than you're telling me. Want to tell me now or after I've fed you?”
“Feeding me is your priority. Otherwise, I'll fade into the landscape and then who will check out Lex Ames's stables tomorrow night?”
##
Beef curry and more foil-wrapped potatoes hit the spot before Caleb opened the pie container. Cooking for Sarah on her campout nights was an unexpectedly pleasurable experience. And one more indicator he was his mother's son. There wasn't much of his father in him, and wasn't that a mercy as his maternal grandmother said with increasing frequency. But then, Oma believed her daughter had married beneath her and despite all the happy years his parents had been together, refused to change her mind.
“Want to share the last of the apple pie?”
“More of your mum's home cooking? I thought you'd have finished it by now. Yes please.” Sarah's eyes appeared heavy and shadowed as he handed her a plate with a slice of pie.
Rationing it so it lasted this long had taken self-discipline but the memory of Sarah's groan of delight had helped. Anyone who enjoyed food like she did was worth the sacrifice. “Might as well finish it off. I'll go you halves in the last piece.”
“Why don't you keep it for tomorrow night's dinner?” She shivered and drew her legs in close to her chest. “You have it, Caleb. Do you mind if I turn in now? I'm struggling to keep my eyes open.”
“Sure. I'll just grab my toothbrush and—what's the time?” He checked his watch. “I'm expecting the daily call from my chief in five minutes. Look, you climb into the car and get set up and I'll join you just long enough to give my report. Okay?”
“No worries.” Sarah climbed to her feet, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated.
The weather had been foul, and a winter storm was brewing and he figured she'd caught a cold during her ride. The sooner she was sheltered from the evening chill, the better.
He cleaned up before climbing into the tray and pulling the door closed. With only him inside, there wasn't much space but with Sarah wrapped up in her sleeping bag, he couldn't reach the radio, which he'd moved into his sleeping quarters beside the tracking receiver. “Swap places with me.”
“I don't want to get out of my sleeping bag,” she said, wriggling towards him like a giant purple worm.
Caleb had studiously avoided touching her since that brief and unexpected reaction to his hand brushing her chest. In the close confines of the four wheel drive, he had no choice. Back pressed against the window, he gave her as much room as he could. But as she tried to slide past him, his belt buckle snagged her sleeping bag and she pitched forwards.
Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and they fell in a tangle of arms and bag.
“Oof!” Sarah lay splayed across his chest, her face hidden behind a curtain of dark hair and one purple streak.
By some miracle, he had managed to twist enough to bear the brunt of the fall, but as he tried to sit up, pain arrowed through his right arm, and numbed feeling below his elbow.
And Sarah didn't move.
He could feel her breath on his neck, feel the rise and fall of her chest. He could only imagine the look in her eyes as he waited for her to make the first move.
And still she lay there.
Tentatively, he raised his left arm and parted the curtain of hair covering her face. Her shocked, violet-blue eyes were like angry bruises against her pale skin.
“Are you hurt, Sarah?”
She blinked, slowly, before realisation that she covered him like a giant purple blanket propelled her backwards into the space she'd been trying to vacate.
Caleb took hold of his right elbow and eased the arm across his chest then sat up. The ridged tray pressed into his butt as he took inventory. Aside from his throbbing arm and the imprint of his buckle he was certain he'd carry on his stomach, he was okay. Which was more than he could say for Sarah.
She clutched the top of her sleeping bag around her shoulders and watched him like a hawk. “I'm fine. All good. Sorry to crush you. I should have got out of my sleeping bag first.” Caleb had never heard Sarah babble before but words rushed from her lips in rapid fire.
The accident was no big deal. And according to Sarah, neither was Jenner’s touch last night. But the evidence accruing since the bug incident created a picture of Sarah at odds with the strong, confident façade she showed the world. He filed his observations away for later examination as he rubbed life back into his bruised elbow.
Beside her, the radio came to life and Glen Kaiser's disembodied voice startled her into lunging forward again. “Geez, I'm going to sleep in my swag.” She scrambled out of the bag and, bundling it under her arm, all but leapt out of the car. The door slammed behind her.
Kaiser's familiar greeting was repeated and Caleb crawled into position. “Richards here. Over.”
As he made his report, Caleb’s mind ran along a parallel course. Was Sarah well enough to go on? Despite his reservations about Jenner, Caleb would put money on Ames being involved in the horse-napping. Which, in Caleb's book, made the syndicate leader dangerous.
Kaiser's question brought Caleb back to his report with a start. “Please repeat.”
“How did the new bug perform? Anything useful?”
Information gained from the bug had raised several questions, not all to be shared with Kaiser. “Ms. Tait flagged two items of particular interest. I'm requesting a background check on the young strapper, Hugo Anstey. And if you can find out his previous employment, when he left it and why, that would be good.”
“A-n-s-t-e-y?”
“We think that's the spelling. The other item is how Jenner heard about the sale of Aladdin. Mrs. Jenner would be a good place to start. She may have overheard a conversation of relevance and given her husband a heads up. He m
ade a comment about snatching the horse out from under the nose of Lex Ames.”
“See what you can get from Ames. Do you trust the Tait girl not to make a mess of it?”
“Yes, sir. She did well last night.” Clever pickups and probing questions aside, Sarah had handled Jenner's advances without blowing her cover.
I don't need a white knight charging in...
Did she see him as the white knight? He didn't feel very gallant as he sat comfortably out of the winter wind while Sarah huddled in her swag. As soon as he signed off from his call, he was going to insist she swapped beds with him.
“Richards, don't trust her completely. Stay close. Any chance of getting inside Ames's stable yourself, take it.” Kaiser signed off.
Wind buffeted the four wheel drive, reminding Caleb that Sarah was out in it while he sat, pondering how to access Lex Ames's property. He slid towards the door and pushed it open against wind that, if possible, seemed stronger and colder than before. Hands thrust deep into his pockets, head down, he strode past the fire to the dark, sloping shape of Sarah's swag.
“Sarah, come in out of this God-awful wind.”
“I'm fine.” Two loud sneezes contradicted her statement.
“You're not fine and this wind won't help. The forecast is for temperatures close to freezing. Come into the ute.” His cheeks and ears felt the sting of cold wind and flying grit and he stamped his feet to keep the circulation going.
Zipper teeth parted in a metallic rip and her face appeared in a small opening in the swag.
“You're so damned bossy.”
A-choo.
“Stop telling me what I am and what I—achoo! —damn it!”
“If you're feeling too weak, I'll carry you but you're coming inside now. Your choice—walk or—”
She wrestled with the zipper, lowering it enough to drag herself out of the swag. “You'd better be offering a hot rum toddy to offset that arrogance of yours.” Hunching her shoulders, she stomped back to the four wheel drive trailing her purple sleeping bag and leaving a track like a giant snake in the dust.
Caleb lifted the coffee pot from the fire. Carrying it and two mugs, he climbed inside and the door slammed as the wind caught it. “Madam's coffee. The rum is in the box behind your head.” He poured two half-mugs and held them out for Sarah to add the rum.
“Cheers.” Wrapping both hands around her mug, Sarah sipped her toddy. Her eyelids were pink and heavy and her nose rivalled Rudolph's. She sniffed and raised a watery gaze to him. “Thanks for the offer of shelter. I covered Tabitha as best I could but even my swag wasn't proof against the wind. Pity I'm not still at Jenner's place.”
“You'd prefer to go back to Mr. Touchy-Feely than spend the night in my luxurious abode? I'm shattered.”
“Only for that doona. Four walls are overrated most of the time.” She slid one arm inside the sleeping bag and slumped against his pillow. Her eyes closed, and the mug in her right hand tilted dangerously.
Caleb reached across. As he lifted it from her slack grasp her eyes opened and her gaze flicked up and met his.
“What are you doing?”
“Rescuing your coffee. Why don't you like being touched, Sarah?”
For all of five seconds, he felt a connection with her before her gaze slipped away.
“None of your business.” Closing her eyes, she turned her back on him and curled onto her side.
“Sweet dreams.” He opened the rear door. Wind almost ripped it from his grasp and whatever warmth they had built up inside was sucked into the night.
“For heaven's sake, get back in and shut the damned door, Caleb. I'm sure we'll survive one night sleeping together.”
He shut it. “Are you sure? What if I roll into you during the night?”
“Do you snore?”
“Not that I'm aware of.”
“That's good enough.” She leaned up on one elbow. “It's cramped in here but three dogs wouldn't be enough to keep you warm out there. I'm not such a selfish bitch that I'd demand you leave. I'll take my chances that you meant what you said.”
“Thanks.” He turned on his side and faced the door, giving her as much room as possible, and the illusion of privacy. Comfortable, it wasn't, and he doubted sleep would come easily. Not with her occasional sneezes and tight coughing. But it was a damned sight warmer than her swag. Thankful for small mercies, he dozed off.
Chapter Six
“Sarah, wake up.”
Bleary-eyed, she cracked one eyelid. Where was she and what was Caleb doing, wherever here might be? She wanted to tell him off but her mouth was drier than the Gibson Desert and her throat felt rough as a gibber plain. Her first attempt at speaking sounded like the pet parrot her brothers had trained to swear when they were kids.
“What was that? Hang on, have a cuppa first.” Caleb handed over a steaming mug of tea. With a sense of deja vu, she pushed herself up onto one elbow, and took the enamel mug.
Heat slipped down her throat, easing the pain as she swallowed. Pallid light filtered onto her purple sleeping bag, showing the dust and black streaks where she’d dragged it through the ashes of the fire. Droplets of condensation ran down the windows of—Caleb's four wheel drive. Of course. Gradually the memory of last night returned and she sat up properly, grimacing as every muscle in her body complained. She raised the mug as she caught his eye. “This is becoming a habit, Detective.”
“Don't get used to it.”
“I don't plan on it.”
“How are you feeling? Ready to ride another sixty ks today?”
“Can't wait.” Sarah's eyes watered and her gravelly voice lacked conviction even to her own ears.
By the time breakfast was over—barely half a slice of toast forced down with more tea—she knew staying in the saddle today would be impossible. She staggered as she stood and the campsite spun around her.
“I've got you.” Caleb caught her in his arms and carried her to the car. He lowered her to the ground and opened the door on the passenger side and eased her onto the car seat.
She grabbed his arm, a frown marring her forehead. “Have you got something in your medical kit I can take?”
“I don't think you can ride sixty metres let alone sixty kilometres.”
“I have to. I can't let the charity down. If I don't ride, people will withdraw their support.”
“Look at me, Sarah. You spun out when you tried to stand. How do you think you're going to climb on Tabitha's back? What if you fall? Who's going to be there to help?”
She opened her mouth to deny what she knew was the truth.
Caleb's hand rose and he placed a finger lightly against her lips. “Don't bother denying it. I can see you know I'm right.”
“But the ride, the fundraiser—” On top of a throbbing head and scratchy throat, disappointment seeped through every pore. Another Tait let-down.
“Does it matter who rides Tabitha?” Caleb's eyebrow rose as he watched her face intently.
“Technically, yes. The same horse and rider should complete the challenge.”
“And you will. If you agree to letting me ride Tabitha today.”
“She can't carry both of us.” Didn't he understand how tough each day was on both horse and rider?
“She won't be. Someone has to bring my four wheel drive—that would be your job.”
Sarah heard the words but what Caleb proposed wasn't making sense. Was it? He wanted to ride Tabitha and leave her to drive his car? “I'm not sure—”
“I'll put it another way. The only way you're leaving this campsite is in my four wheel drive. Either you drive it to Lex Ames's property and meet me there or I'll drive you with Tabitha hitched to the back. But if you let me ride Tabitha, your challenge will still be completed. Five minutes, Sarah. I want your answer then.” He turned away and packed up the chairs, her swag, and the last of their breakfast things and loaded them in the back.
When he returned, he handed her a bottle of water and a card of tablets. “Two
now, and two more in four hours. That should get you to Ames's place. Do you feel up to driving or shall I tie Tabitha to the towbar and drive you?”
“Have I mentioned the problem of your arrogant, over-protective, take-charge attitude?”
“Yes, several times. So, to drive, or be driven.” He held out a set of keys.
Without a word, Sarah took them from him and pushed to her feet. Grabbing the doorframe, she looked at him over her shoulder. “Thank you.”
##
Tabitha waited patiently as Caleb leaned down and opened the gate beside a cattle grid that marked the western entry to Northern Downs. Aside from an unoriginal, old-fashioned name, the property was reputed to have the latest technology and to be weathering the current drought better than most of its neighbours.
A rusted windmill clanked as its sails turned in the wind.
Latest technology? Prosperity didn't come from old machinery. Where was the state-of-the-art pump and satellite tracking he'd read about?
Following the dirt track, Caleb climbed a small hill, inventorying as he passed through land that showed fewer signs of drought than other properties in the area. Cresting the hill, he pulled up to survey the spread of buildings below. A satellite dish on one corner of the main house was big enough to hold a picnic table. A second dish was attached to what must be the stable block.
He spotted his four wheel drive parked at the end of a line of farm vehicles and breathed a sigh of relief. Sarah had arrived safely. Leaving her this morning had taken all of his resolve not to take charge as she put it. The ride was her project and the decision on any variations had to be hers, so long as she was lucid enough to make them.
He gritted his teeth as Tabitha took a rough patch of ground at a trot. How Sarah did this day after day was beyond him. Two days was the longest ride he'd taken, and then he and his father hadn't attempted more than thirty kilometres in a single stretch. And at thirteen, he'd been more resilient than his thirty-two-year-old body was now.
He rode past the house and into the stable yard and pulled up as Sarah walked out of the stables accompanied by a middle-aged man whose round belly indicated he liked to live well.
Long Way Home (Hearts of the Outback Book 3) Page 5
