Long Way Home (Hearts of the Outback Book 3)

by Susanne Bellamy

  Beside him, the radio crackled into life. “Base calling Outrider, come in Outrider.”

  He grabbed the handset. “Outrider to Base. I need to—”

  With a start, he realised night had fallen.

  Sarah hadn't arrived.

  “Richards, you're not going to like what I'm about to tell you.”

  ##

  Smoke rose in a thin column behind the shelter of a red hill. As it neared the top, wind shredded it and it disappeared into the dusty air. Deep in depressing thoughts and fighting the lethargy induced by her cold, Sarah wouldn't have noticed it at all if she hadn't gone off course.

  Unsure where she was, she pulled the map out of her jacket and followed the line of the trail she should have taken with her finger. Examining the topography of the area in which she found herself, she shook her head and unfolded the adjacent section of map.

  Seriously off course.

  Somehow after lunch she had angled away from the easterly line she should have taken through plain land. This country undulated with small hills and hidden dips. She checked the map for dwellings. Nothing. So who had set the fire? Surely no-one would be camping in the middle of nowhere in this weather.

  Cold and hungry, she dismounted and loosely tethered Tabitha before scrambling up the slope. Several feet shy of the top of the ridge, she dropped to the ground and crawled the last few feet to peer over the edge.

  A high, makeshift barrier stretched across the narrow entrance to a patch of sandy ground. A small tent had been erected near the temporary fence and smoke rose from a campfire a few metres away. Hoof beats thudded dully and a black horse burst into view, pulling up in a cloud of dust at the barrier.

  Two men slipped through a narrow opening in the fence. Even from this distance, she could see they weren't happy. One slapped a pair of gloves against his thigh and swore, the harsh expletive amplified in the confined space.

  Had she stumbled across Sir Alain?

  Heart thudding, Sarah pulled off one glove and delved into her jacket pocket for her phone. No bars. The satellite phone was in her saddle bag. But what use was speculation. Needing proof of what she'd seen, she clicked off several photos. Unhappy with the lack of clarity, she edged closer. She had to be sure the horse was Sir Alain before she alerted Caleb via the sat phone.

  Once she had sent proof the black stallion was the missing Sir Alain, her assignment with Caleb would be over. She could leave the charming, two-faced detective and finish her ride alone. As she had wanted to all along. A ridiculous sense of loss floated through her subconscious.

  Refusing to examine the reason for it, she slid in behind a rock on the downward slope above the camp and raised the phone to shoot a burst of images. High-pitched neighing split the air as the stallion reared, pawed the air, and landed with a dusty thump. He was under stress and frightened.

  One man slid back into the enclosure and raised his arm high above his head. Cra—a—ck. The whip-crack reverberated around the sandy bowl of the pen and the stallion snorted and backed away.

  Anger rose in Sarah's chest, threatening to blow out into a rash action. Clenching her phone, she slid the button to video and raised it again.

  A grimy, hairy-knuckled hand plucked the phone out of hers and an unseen hand pushed her hard against the rock. Gasping, with the breath knocked out of her, it was several seconds before she managed to roll over and look up.

  Her assailant, a stockman in his thirties, held a gun, which he used to indicate she should move. “Now, missy.”

  Pressing a hand to her aching ribs, she pushed to her feet, and staggered a few steps. Her mind whirled as she frantically sought an escape. Descending the slope, going into the camp were bad moves. She dropped to one knee, unsure what her next move would be, only certain that moving forward was a bad choice.

  The man grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip and the smell of smoke and horse filtered into her blocked nose as he dragged her up. She tried to dig her heels in and pull away but he hurried her down the slope, slipping and slithering and sending loose rocks rolling ahead.

  The whip cracker left the stallion's pen and strolled towards them, coiling the whip in his right hand. Up close, he was lean and not as young as she had first thought.

  The gunman shoved her and she fell. “Look what I found up in the rocks.”

  “Maybe it's our lucky night after all.” Malevolence gleamed in his eyes.

  A shiver raced down Sarah’s spine but the memory of Sir Alain rearing and fighting back returned. She stiffened her spine. “Rather unlucky, I’d say, giving away your position to the police.”

  “What’s that? What d’you mean?” Her captor’s grip tightened painfully.

  She clenched her teeth and forced a careless smile. No way were these kidnappers going to see her fear. “Do you really think I’d ride up to your camp alone, without back up nearby? You’re more stupid than I thought. Why on earth did your boss entrust a pair like you with such a valuable horse.”

  “Shut it, you bitch.” Gunslinger’s vicious grip would leave bruises, but the satisfaction in provoking him felt good. There was power in knowing she could needle him. And power of any sort would help her through the bizarre situation she’d fallen into.

  Whip cracker stepped closer and ran the whip handle down her cheek. A feral grin revealed yellowing teeth. “Thanks for the tip off. Now we’ll be prepared when they arrive.” He half turned away before his arm rose in a blur towards her. Pain exploded in her head.

  Chapter Nine

  The aroma of coconut chicken curry taunted Caleb. His stomach churned and he set aside his plate. Had he really been blind in believing Sarah innocent?

  Jenner’s wife told the boys in Townsville that Sarah Tait was implicated. She didn’t know how, precisely, just that she’d overheard Lex Ames say how useful Ms. Tait would be.

  Was it possible Kaiser’s evidence was wrong? Couldn’t it mean that Ames intended to ask for Sarah’s help in training a horse? Especially if he’d planned to buy Aladdin. Kaiser’s certainty of Sarah’s involvement was based on the fact Jeanette Jenner didn’t know Sarah.

  Why would she want to implicate someone she doesn’t know? She just repeated what she heard. Face it, Richards, you were wrong about her.

  He wished he had Kaiser’s certainty. Seeing Sarah with the horses, and the care she’d lavished on both Aladdin and young Lily Jenner, he found it hard to accept. But where was Sarah now? Her disappearing act had come at just the wrong time. She’d been quiet over lunch, and her body language had been closed. Shutting him out after he thought they’d made headway she’d barely made eye contact. He’d put it down to her heavy cold but maybe Kaiser was right.

  If Sarah was part of the horse-napping, and was preparing to put him off the trail, she wouldn’t play friendly. Turning him off seeking her company was clever. She must have planned to divert from her route shortly after he passed her on the way to setting up tonight’s camp.

  He climbed into the four wheel drive and pulled out a map of the area. There was her route marked in green and orange highlighter. He stabbed the orange circle.

  I’m here, where you’re supposed to be. So where are you, Sarah?

  Torn between accepting what Kaiser had said about Sarah and his gut instinct, Caleb sat for minutes, weighing Kaiser’s certainty against his belief. Then he switched on the tracking device he’d dropped into her saddlebag that first day.

  ##

  Sarah’s head throbbed and her cheek was on fire as she lay huddled in the dark. And she had no idea where she was. Blinking didn’t clear the darkness from her eyes but the effort exhausted her.

  Lying still, she tried to focus on the sounds that seemed to ebb and flow at a distance. As if she was underwater, distorted voices rumbled in words she couldn’t understand. Giving up, she slipped into a doze.

  Perhaps hours passed. Or minutes.

  She couldn’t tell.

  The next time she surfaced, the night was a little less black, a he
avy grey in which a huge shadow stirred the air. Moist breath warmed the chill on her cheeks. Gunslinger? Whip cracker?

  Unmoving, she allowed her sense of smell to fill in the blanks.

  Horse?

  A wet nose huffed more warm air over her face. Opening her eyes wide, she turned her head a fraction and peered up. The shadow edged back, resolved itself and became the black stallion.

  Dry-mouthed, she tried to work up enough moisture to whisper soothingly to the horse. Her last view of him had been of a maddened, frightened animal pawing the air. Sharp hooves that could knock a man down and kick in his skull. How could he tell she was one of the good guys? If she moved, would he rear and crack her head open?

  She raised her head a little and a coppery tang filled her mouth. Very slowly, she reached up to touch her face. One cheek was swollen and her fingers touched grit and stickiness beside her mouth. Blood? She probed further. Memory and pain roared back and she rested her head on the ground.

  Nobody knew she was here. Not even Caleb since she’d stupidly wandered off course. Tabitha might still be nearby, without her blanket or food and water but that didn’t help Sarah right now. Unless the goon duo had gone looking for her horse and brought her into camp? And what about the stallion? Who would rescue him?

  The only chance for the horses was if she helped herself. Gritting her teeth, she eased herself off the ground with difficulty. As she sat up, her back connected with a wall of rough rock. She leaned against it, breathing through waves of nausea until the pain settled into a manageable throbbing.

  Imperceptibly, the air around had lightened; dawn couldn’t be far off. Sir Alain stood watching her efforts. She could see enough of him now to be sure. Not that it did her any good. Not while she sat here, useless. Carefully, slowly, hands walking up the hard rock behind, she stood. And swayed.

  Dizzy and disorientated, she breathed through her mouth, willing her rebellious stomach into submission. Where were the goons? Coughing noises carried from beyond the barrier and she could make out the ghostly shape of their tent. How long before they woke?

  And of more immediate concern, what did they intend to do with her? Unwilling to wait and find out, Sarah held out one hand to the stallion. If she could coax him into accepting her, was she strong enough to lead him out? And where could they go?

  “Here, boy, beautiful boy.” She whispered and waited, willing him to come to her. Sir Alain was trained and used to people, but she had no idea how badly treated he had been since his theft. Or how he would react to her in this place where he’d probably known abuse.

  Wishing she had a piece of apple, anything with which to let the stallion know her intentions were good, she held her hand as steady as she could. Heavy as lead, her hand like a block of ice, she faltered. Her arm trembled with the effort. Fear and frustration brought moisture to her eyes and she blinked it away.

  And then the stallion lowered his head. Warm breath huffed over her chilled fingers as his lips explored her skin. Gently, slowly, she slid her hand up his long nose, crooning softly, “I’m your friend, boy, and together, we’re going to get out of this awful place.”

  Sir Alain snorted and nodded as if agreeing and stepped closer. Having established a tentative bond, she stroked up and down his velvet nose. He sniffed and took her scent, tossed his head and backed up a step or two. Fearing the smell of blood would frighten him away, she continued slowly stroking and whispering soothing words. Never had she tried to win a horse’s confidence so quickly but with so much at stake, taking it slowly wasn’t an option.

  Gradually, the stallion settled under her patient hands and soft words.

  “Are we friends now, boy? Do you understand I won’t hurt you? Because if you do, together, we might get out of here.” Right now, this high-strung horse was her only hope. If she could rescue him and return him to his rightful owner, she would vindicate herself.

  And I’ll show Detective Two-faced Richards where to shove his damned bugs right after I prove him wrong.

  Looking Sir Alain in the eye, she decided it was now or never. “Come on, big boy. We’re going to get out of here.” Hand on his halter, she turned towards the fence. Somewhere on the right, there should be a gate or latch or—

  “The boss reckoned you’d be useful.”

  Sarah jerked her head up and the stallion tensed. Both of them hated that voice, and the man to whom it belonged. He’d taken the whip to Sir Alain and backhanded her into unconsciousness. She stood beside the horse, and her hand tightened on his halter.

  “I’m not helping you, now or ever.” Was that croaky voice really hers? She tried to clear it, to speak loudly and assertively, but couldn’t. “You won’t beat him again.”

  “If you want to help this horse, missy, you’ll do what you’re told.” Gunslinger reached down and adjusted himself before pulling up the zipper on his jeans. Casually, he raised the rifle and aimed it at Sir Alain. “Or you and the horse will both suffer for it.”

  ##

  Unable to sleep, Caleb tossed and turned through the night. Around four o’clock, he pushed aside his sleeping bag, made a thermos of coffee and broke camp. Then he began following the tracking device. The terrain it led him into was precisely as Sarah described when she’d suggested hiding places the kidnapper might have chosen.

  Caleb parked and checked the tracker again. Less than a hundred metres ahead, the outline of a hill was etched against the dawn sky. And near its base, unmoving, Tabitha’s tracking device emitted a strong signal.

  He strapped on his rifle and slung the backpack over the other shoulder. Armed and irritated—it seemed likely Kaiser was right after all—he circled around and approached Sarah’s camp from the south. Fifty metres—thirty—until gradually, he made out the shape of her mare. He trod softly, downwind and wary of stepping on Sarah in her swag. And then he was within touching distance of the mare.

  Head down and saddled, Tabitha looked abandoned. Caleb patted her neck and she snorted in pleasure and nosed his jacket.

  He gave the mare a piece of apple from the supply he’d taken to carrying on this trip and looked around for Sarah. Her swag, indeed, all her gear, was neatly rolled and strapped on Tabitha’s back. Of Sarah, there was no sign.

  Sarah would never leave Tabitha in this state, saddled and without water. He looked at the loose way she’d tethered the reins. One good pull and the mare would be free. Sarah had been very particular in ensuring he understood the need for the loose tie the day he took her place on the ride.

  If a snake or some other danger approaches, she can escape. If you’re going to be leaving her alone, even if you think you won’t be long, loop the reins like this.

  So Sarah hadn’t expected to be gone for long.

  Chill morning wind whirled around them and Caleb caught the tang of smoke. A campfire? But not Sarah’s, because she wouldn’t leave her horse. He raised his head trying to detect where the smoke came from. A smudge of grey on the sky, paler than the waning night, indicated the source lay behind the sloping hill. He scanned for signs of Sarah having passed that way. A scrape in the dirt, a dislodged rock and there, the imprint of a booted heel. She’d climbed the hill.

  But she hadn’t come down.

  Cautious and with senses on high alert, Caleb approached the rim of the hill. In the hollow below, a campfire crackled and smoked a few metres from a small tent. He flattened himself against a rock and edged forward, cursing those few seconds of peering at the fire. Compromising his night vision right when he most needed it was a rookie error.

  He held up his hand and blocked out the lower part of the scene and the fire. Behind the tent, a makeshift fence stretched across a narrow opening. The layout suggested somebody had something valuable to guard. Something large enough to warrant a chest-high fence.

  Against all odds, had he stumbled onto Sir Alain’s hiding place? But where was Sarah? In the tent? Why wasn’t her horse down there with her, unsaddled and safe? As his night vision reasserted itself, two
shadows resolved themselves behind the fence, one horse-shaped, and the other, a female-shaped human. They had to be Sarah and the missing stallion. Again the issue of why Tabitha had been abandoned so far from the camp nagged at him.

  It couldn’t have been Sarah’s choice. Caring as she did for all horses, she would never have left her mare like that. And yet, she had.

  Her shadow merged with that of the horse. He imagined her whispering to it, telling it—whatever it was she told horses.

  So slowly Caleb wasn’t aware of the change, the air lost its dense colour and he could make out the pale oval of her face. She turned the horse’s head and moved towards the fence.

  A male voice called out and she and the horse stopped in their tracks. Words were exchanged that Caleb would dearly have loved to hear. A second man appeared from the tent and ambled over to join the man at the fence.

  The second man raised his rifle and aimed at Sarah.

  Chapter Ten

  Sarah’s heart thudded and her head throbbed as Gunslinger aimed his rifle at Sir Alain. The stallion whinnied, high and piercing and backed away, dragging her with him. She’d taken too long winning the horse’s trust, and yet not long enough. Out of control, Sarah had no hope of escape, with or without him. The goons stood on the safe side of the fence, grinning as she tried to calm Sir Alain. She needed a distraction.

  He whinnied again, shrill and angry. Muffled by distance, Tabitha answered his call. The goons swung around, searching for the other horse, for the unwelcome company it signalled.

  While Gunslinger raised his rifle to cover any approach, and Whip cracker’s attention was off her, Sarah grabbed the stallion’s mane, pushed off the rough rock at her back and mounted the horse. She leaned over, patted his neck and gave him the signal to go. His burst of speed was exhilarating, frightening, and the fence loomed ahead all too quickly. Sarah squeezed her knees and clung to his mane as the stallion soared over the fence like the champion he was. Almost like in slow-motion film, she watched the two men drop to the ground as she and the horse sailed as one over their heads.