The Wild One

by Janet Gover

  Jack nodded. ‘And Trish said …’

  Quinn smiled. He was such a large man to be bullied by a small woman with silver-grey hair. But then again, Trish Warren was pretty formidable. Quinn decided to put Jack out of his misery.

  ‘I would be very happy if you would take this,’ she waved at her knitting, ‘when it’s done. I’ve got a bit of work still to do, but I think I’m going to be here a bit longer than I expected. Long enough to finish this, at least.’

  ‘And you really want to just give it away? After you’ve put so much hard work into it?’

  Quinn nodded. She couldn’t explain to a stranger why she knitted baby clothes. Or why she gave them away. All except the delicate pink knitted lace jacket that lay safely wrapped in tissue in her Hummer.

  ‘Well, thank you. It’s beautiful and I’m sure Ellen will love it.’

  ‘You are welcome.’ Quinn glanced back at her laptop. She didn’t want to be rude, but she had work to do … and a deadline. Not to mention a burger to eat.

  ‘So, you are trying to find a way to save the brumbies,’ Jack said.

  ‘Yes,’ Quinn admitted slowly. ‘How did you know?’

  Jack nodded at the website displayed on her laptop. ‘Word gets around.’

  Trish Warren, Quinn guessed. Not that she had said much to her, but the older woman could probably hear her thoughts – or at least look over her shoulder at the websites she was visiting. Trish was more than capable of putting two and two together as well – but she’d probably get five.

  ‘So, what do you need?’ Jack posed the question in such a straightforward manner, as if he expected there to be easy answers. And Quinn knew there weren’t.

  ‘Not much,’ she said ruefully. ‘Some way to catch a herd of brumbies. Then I have to get them out of the park once they are caught. I need somewhere to put them where they are safe but don’t damage the natural environment. And, oh yes, someone who knows something about horses to help me.’

  ‘Well, that doesn’t sound impossible,’ Jack said with a simplicity that surprised her. ‘In fact, here’s someone who might be able to help with the last one. Adam!’

  Quinn saw a tall man with curly dark hair approach. He was wearing on open neck white shirt over his faded blue jeans. The woman with him was plainly dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, but she had a beautiful face. Quinn knew it would photograph well. But everything about the woman suggested she probably didn’t care.

  ‘This is our doctor, Adam Gilmore and his wife, Jess. Jess flies the air ambulance. Adam, Jess, this is Quinn.’

  ‘The photographer?’ Adam grinned. ‘I heard we had someone famous in town. Pleased to meet you.’

  Quinn shook the hand he offered. Jess smiled her welcome.

  ‘We need some ideas, Doc,’ Jack said. ‘To save the brumbies out at Tyangi.’

  ‘Tell me more.’ Adam pulled up a chair. Jess and Jack did too. Quinn gave up on her burger. She wasn’t hungry any more. For the first time since she’d started this, she was beginning to feel a spark of hope.

  ‘Quinn needs someone who knows something about horses,’ Jack said. ‘I was wondering if Carrie Bryant might help.’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Adam’s brow creased slightly. He exchanged a look with his wife. Jess frowned and Quinn sensed an unspoken message pass between the two.

  ‘Who is Carrie Bryant?’ Quinn asked.

  Jack chuckled.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked.

  ‘Around here it’s pretty unusual for someone to ask a question like that. Especially about a famous jockey who happens to live here in town.’

  ‘She’s a patient of mine,’ Adam cut in. ‘Or she was. She was a jockey. A very good one. But she got hurt last year at the Birdsville Races.’

  ‘Would she be willing to help?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ A frown creased Adam’s brow. ‘She’s fine now, physically. But she isn’t involved with racing any more. She moved into town to work at the feed store. It’s possible she could help you.’

  ‘Adam, are you sure she’s up for this?’ Jess asked.

  ‘Maybe something like this is just what she needs to get herself back on track,’ Adam replied.

  ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Jack said. ‘Ask her.’

  That made sense to Quinn. ‘We have to do it tonight. Dan Mitchell is going to start shooting those horses tomorrow.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ a voice said behind her. ‘Not if you can give me some other option.’

  He hadn’t been able to stay away. He told himself he should wait for her to come back. Because one way or another she would come back. She didn’t look like the sort of woman to give up easily.

  But two days had seemed such a long time. The firebreak was finished. There were no campers in the park. He had gone back to the billabong last evening to wait for the brumbies … without his rifle. He watched the sun sink and heard rather than saw the brumbies come to the billabong to drink well after it was dark.

  He sat there, perfectly still, listening to the horses splashing in the water and snorting. After a while the moon rose, gifting the scene with just enough light for him to see dark shapes milling around, drinking and eating the green grass that grew close to the water’s edge. Dan found himself wishing that Quinn was with him. It was far too long since he’d had the pleasure of a woman’s company. He wasn’t thinking about sex – although that had been a long time too. He was thinking about how good it was to hear a woman’s voice. To watch the laughter in her eyes. To know the scent of her hair … of her body. He’d spent too much time alone. Or in the company of other men. He had loved his comrades-in-arms like brothers. But in this quiet moment, watching those beautiful wild creatures, as the cicadas’ song echoed around and the breeze blew gently, Dan longed to have someone to share it with. A woman to share it with. A woman who would see what he saw in the quiet beauty of the night.

  He spent the night at the billabong. He always carried a sleeping bag in his Land Rover because he liked sleeping in the open. The dreams came less often when he slept outside. When he woke, he knew what he had to do.

  That’s why he was standing in the lounge of the pub, Quinn staring at him with a question on her face.

  ‘I did a headcount,’ Dan said, pulling a chair up to the table. ‘We’ve got fifteen mares. Most of them seem to have foals, although they move about so much it’s hard to be sure. The foals look terribly fragile to me, but they seem able to keep up. There’s about another dozen others that hang out on the fringes of the herd. I don’t know much about horses, but they look like youngsters. Then, of course, there’s that stallion.’

  ‘So, about forty,’ Adam said. ‘That doesn’t seem too many to handle.’

  ‘And there’s a place further along the gorge, where it narrows,’ Dan said, his eyes fixed on Quinn, who still seemed shocked to see him. ‘It’s got very steep sides. I think we could pen them in there. We’ll need to fence it off somehow.’

  ‘I can help with that,’ Jack said. ‘I can probably liberate some timber from the mine. I’ll talk to Chris Powell. Maybe he’ll help out with some labour too if we need it.’

  ‘The mine?’ Quinn finally seemed to catch up with the conversation.

  ‘I do some work there,’ said Jack. ‘Fix things. Powell is the mine manager. He’s all right. He’ll probably be willing to help us. I’m pretty sure we can build a couple of sturdy fences. I guess you’ll probably need gates too. I think I know where I can get a couple of those.’

  ‘If Jack says he can build you a fence, dear, you better believe he can.’ Trish Warren appeared with some glasses and a jug of beer. ‘He actually keeps half the town running. God knows what Syd and I would do without him.’

  Waving away the money Jack was offering her, Trish vanished again.

  ‘Does she hear every word spoken in this town?’ Quinn whispered.

  The group around her all nodded, casting glances of mock terror over their shoulders.

  Quinn
’s face relaxed and she smiled. Dan felt as if someone had turned on a bright new light in the room.

  ‘So, back to Carrie,’ Jess said. ‘I guess you need to ask her if she’ll help.’

  ‘I guess,’ Quinn said. ‘Who knows her the best? Adam? Will you ask her for us?’

  Adam shook his head. ‘I think you should.’

  ‘Me?’ Quinn looked around.

  ‘It’s your idea,’ Dan pointed out. ‘Your crusade.’

  ‘But she doesn’t know me. Why should she even listen to me?’

  ‘Because Dan will go with you,’ Trish said, appearing once again without warning to clear away the remains of Quinn’s dinner. ‘And everyone knows Dan’s a stand-up sort of a guy.’

  Dan saw Adam and Jack exchange a glance. He knew what they were thinking. Trish was something of a matchmaker. She’d put her two cents worth in for Jack and Ellen. Also for Adam and Jess. All were now happily settled. It wouldn’t work on Dan, of course. He wasn’t marriage material. But if Trish’s schemes gave him a little time with Quinn, that wouldn’t be so bad.

  ‘So, when do we do this?’ Quinn asked, oblivious to the currents around her.

  ‘No time like the present,’ Adam decided. ‘I can tell you how to get to her place.’

  ‘All right. Give me a minute.’ Quinn closed down her laptop and gathered her knitting into its bag. ‘I’ll be right back.’ She headed in the direction of her room, but halfway across the lounge she stopped and turned back.

  ‘Thanks for the help,’ she said to them, but her eyes were on Dan.

  Adam, Jess and Jack waved away her words.

  Dan said nothing. She would never know it, but in his heart he knew the truth – he was the one who should be thanking her.

  Chapter Eight

  The light swinging across the lounge room curtains told Carrie she had visitors even before she heard the car easing down her long driveway. Her rented house was on the very outskirts of town. The only time she saw a light or heard a car was when someone was coming to visit her. That didn’t happen very often. She reached for the TV remote and with a touch of her finger consigned the New York police and their latest investigation to darkness. She wasn’t a particular fan of American police drama, but the sound from the television filled the silence in her house. And if she tried very hard, she might start thinking about their problems, rather than her own.

  She eased herself out of her chair and walked to the window. She hated the way she peered through the curtains like some frightened old woman, but she seldom got visitors. And she was no stranger to fear.

  The Land Rover pulling up outside had a logo on the door. She couldn’t see it clearly in the darkness, but she recognised the man who got out. She’d seen the park ranger around. She remembered people talking about how he rescued an injured girl from the caves in the park. People said he was a good guy. A tall blonde woman got out of the passenger seat. Carrie had never seen her before, but there was a lot about her Carrie recognised. Her self-assured manner. The ease with which she carried herself. This was obviously a strong woman. A woman with things to do and places to go. The sort of woman Carrie used to be.

  She stepped back from the window. For a fleeting moment she thought about ducking into her bedroom to change. But the knock on the door came too soon. Well, she would just have to answer the door wearing cut-off jeans shorts and a T-shirt. She flicked her brown hair behind her ears and reached for the doorknob.

  ‘Hi, Carrie, I’m Dan Mitchell. I’m the ranger out at Tyangi Crossing National Park.’

  ‘I know,’ Carrie said brusquely.

  ‘This is Quinn,’ Dan continued. ‘She’s just passing through town. She’s a photographer.’

  ‘Hi, Carrie.’ Quinn smiled and held out her hand.

  Carrie took it reluctantly. She wasn’t sure how to react to this beautiful, confident stranger. She didn’t speak, waiting for her visitors to explain themselves.

  ‘Carrie, we need your help,’ Quinn said earnestly. ‘It’s about the brumbies in the park. Dan’s been ordered to shoot them.’

  ‘What?’ Carrie was truly horrified. She turned to Dan. ‘Why?’

  Dan didn’t answer, and the way his mouth twitched into a harsh line made her think he was as shocked as she was by the thought of such slaughter.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Quinn said. ‘But the most important thing is we want to save them. And we need your help.’

  ‘Can we come in and talk to you about it?’ Dan asked.

  Carrie stepped back to allow them inside. Quinn smiled in an encouraging way. The lounge room had only two armchairs. Quinn took one. After a moment’s hesitation Dan took one of the two chairs from the small dining table and pulled it up next to Quinn. Carrie looked around the room, seeing it as Quinn and Dan must be seeing it. Sparsely furnished, the room was clean and neat, but that neatness wasn’t due to her housekeeping skills. Mostly it was due to the total lack of clutter. There were no framed photographs. Very few books on the bookshelves, and no mementoes or souvenirs. No trophies, either. Nothing to indicate that this was the home of someone who had been a brilliant young jockey, whose first seasons on the track had broken records and accumulated a host of wins. Looking around, Carrie realised the room was totally impersonal. There was nothing of her here. This was a house where she lived, but it was not a home.

  She propped herself on the edge of the other armchair. ‘So, what’s this all about?’

  They told her. As they talked, Carrie could feel it all coming back to her. The beauty and strength of the horses she loved. The soft touch of equine lips on the palm of her hand, delicately tasting the treat held there. The silky sheen beneath her fingers as she stroked an arched neck. The feel of a thoroughbred racing beneath her. The glorious power of strong muscle and ever stronger heart. The wind in her face and the smell of leather and sweat. The roar of the crowd and the thunder of hooves entering the home straight. The heart-stopping moment when the horse beneath her faltered and fell …

  ‘So we need someone who knows about horses,’ Quinn was saying. ‘Someone who knows people who know horses. We need help catching the brumbies. And we need somewhere to put them. The doctor … Adam … thought you might be able to help us.’

  Adam … his voice reassuring her. His hands holding a needle explaining how he had to extract the air from her chest. The memory of him thrusting that huge needle into her body still woke her at night. And when it did, there were tears on her face.

  Carrie suddenly realised that the others were looking at her, as if expecting an answer.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t think I can really help,’ she said. ‘I’m not a jockey any more. I don’t move in that world … not now.’

  ‘But you did.’ Quinn leaned forward eagerly. ‘You know people. And you know about horses. I’ve never ridden a horse. I don’t think I’ve even patted one … except maybe at a school fete when I was small. There’s a lot you can do to help us save those brumbies.’

  ‘No!’ Carrie bit back the panic that was starting to rise. ‘I’ve got a job now. I work at the feed store. I haven’t got the time. I’m sorry. Really I am. I hope you find a way to save the brumbies. I really do. But I can’t help you.’

  She got to her feet and quickly moved towards the door, hoping her guests would take the hint.

  ‘But …’ Quinn appeared set to argue, but Dan interrupted her.

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ he said as he stood. ‘If you change your mind, or if you think of anyone who might be able to help us, we really would appreciate it.’

  Carrie nodded. She stood rock still, pushing her hands deep in her pockets as Dan opened the front door.

  ‘Thanks for your time, Carrie,’ he said in a gentle voice. His blue eyes held hers for a moment, and she thought she saw a shadow behind his smile. Then he ushered a reluctant Quinn out and closed the door behind them.

  Carrie let out a huge sigh and turned back towards her empty living room. She dropped back into the chai
r, but didn’t reach for the TV remote. No fake crime drama was going to distract her now. She felt desperately sorry for the brumbies. And for the man who had been ordered to shoot them. It was wrong. But there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  She raised her hands in front of her face and looked at them. They were shaking. She clenched her fists to try to stop them, but it didn’t work and the tears began to well up in her eyes. She wanted to find the person she used to be. Was this her chance? She looked at her shaking hands again and knew that it was not. She could never be that person again. She didn’t have the courage.

  ‘I really don’t understand,’ Quinn muttered to herself. ‘She must love horses. Why won’t she help us?’

  The hotel bar was deserted. Quinn was seated on a stool, a glass of orange juice in front of her, continuing her fruitless searching for help on the web. Before returning to the park last night, Dan had promised her another day or two to find someone to help them save the brumbies. But, he’d warned, after that he would have no other option but to follow his orders. As he’d spoken the words, Quinn knew he was as eager as she was to find another answer.

  Trish Warren was polishing glasses in anticipation of the late afternoon rush of business, which was due to start shortly.

  ‘You know she was hurt,’ Trish said. ‘A fall at the Birdsville Races last year. Adam and his wife, Jess – you know she’s the pilot of the air ambulance – well they flew her to Mt Isa Hospital. Something to do with her breathing. From what I hear Carrie never went back to racing after that.’

  ‘Oh.’ That did explain the total lack of anything even vaguely related to horse racing in Carrie’s home. House – Quinn corrected herself. There had been nothing homely about it. Quinn understood all about houses that were not homes. She felt a surge of sympathy for Carrie.

  ‘She works at the feed store now,’ Trish continued. ‘Only part-time. But she would know some of the people who go there. There must be someone else. Let me have a think. I’m just going back to the kitchen to start sorting things out for the dinner rush. Syd will be back in a minute. But if someone else comes in, just give me a call.’