So you asked for it and here it is! The prologue of Emerald Springs... Prologue Amelia took a deep breath, squeezed the keys in her hand and scanned the rodeo grounds. The squares of light from the atco hut windows didn’t stretch far, and she was very aware that the shadows could hide anything or anyone; her hands shook a little at the thought. A moment more to calm her nerves, then she slid a key into the lock and pulled open the door to the treasurer’s office. She stood on the threshold, listening intently, checking that no one had snuck inside. Pale yellow light flooded the simple room: a couple of desks and chairs, filing cabinets, the trestle table where she’d stacked left-over promotional flyers, and the rickety stand where the old electric kettle sat beside teabags, coffee sachets and a mismatched set of chipped cups. Around the walls were posters of Torrica rodeos past: some faded, some still vibrant. And there, on the floor beside her desk, sat the bags, plain sand-coloured calico, Torrica Rodeo Committee printed on them in blue. A round of drunken shouts and laughter rang out, then died away. It sounded close, but the camping grounds were about a kilometre from the ring. Noise travelled a long way on still nights. Amelia wished the powerful towered spotlights that had shone down an hour earlier hadn’t been switched off. She hefted two of the bags, her breathing shallow, a tremor running through her. Was it fear, exhilaration or anxiety? Maybe all three. Outside, she briefly put the sacks down to lock the door. Walking quickly, she crossed the gravel to where her ancient car was parked. Fond though she was of Pushme the Mazda hatchback, she was regretting not accepting Paul’s offer of his ute for the weekend. Pushme was getting less able to meet the demands placed on her. Pausing as another lot of raucous yelling reached her, Amelia glanced around once more, acutely conscious of the huge amount of money in the bags. ‘Come on, Gus, where are you?’ she muttered, unlocking the back passenger-side door, lowering the bags onto the floor, then relocking. When she’d been given the job of treasurer, she’d never thought about having to transport the whole of the organisation’s takings to the bank’s night safe in town. In the middle of the night. With only one escort, who should have showed up by now. Amelia collected two more bags from the office and dumped them in Pushme. As she headed back for more, she heard the shouts of men and clatter of hooves on steel as a truck was loaded up with cattle. It was a comforting sound. Then the crunch of tyres on gravel made her jump a couple of feet. A brand-new ute pulled up beside Pushme. Amelia held her breath. ‘How you going tonight, Milly?’ the president of the rodeo committee called as he got out and walked towards her. ‘Gus!’ she said, with a mixture of relief and annoyance. He was about the same age as her dad, in his mid-fifties, his face weathered by the sun and wind. Never seen without his tattered hat and large belt buckle, he radiated dependability— and he had been one of her biggest allies on the committee. ‘Who else would it be?’ he said. ‘Sorry I was late—got held up at the last minute. Scare you, did I?’ ‘Let’s just say it was almost a job for the brown trousers.’ She grinned, relaxing. ‘Sorry, just a bit nervous with all the loot. Can’t say I’ve ever seen four hundred k in one place before, let alone in my own car.’ Gus whistled. ‘Four hundred k? That’s a record for this little rodeo.’ ‘Up thirty per cent on last year,’ said Amelia proudly. That would show ’em, everyone who’d given her sly looks, waiting for her to stuff up. Jim Green and Kevin Hubble in particular. ‘Committee should be happy with that.’ He paused before adding, ‘You’ve done a great job in such a short time.’ ‘I hope so,’ she answered, unlocking and pulling open the office door. ‘I certainly had something to prove, didn’t I?’ Without waiting for a reply, she stepped inside. Gus came in behind her and they grabbed the last four bags. Amelia gave the room a once-over, then nodded with satisfaction before turning off the lights and locking the door. While she was happy to see Gus, the weight of responsibil- ity hadn’t completely lifted. She wished she’d been able to organise one other escort—even just her bossy older brother, Graham—so that her car could be flanked by two other vehicles. Too late now, Milly, she thought, and squared her shoulders, picking up the heavy bags. She turned around to see Gus kicking at the dirt, clearly anxious to get going, and said, ‘Sorry, am I holding you up?’ ‘I just don’t want to be gone from the grounds for too long. If something goes wrong, it’s on my shoulders.’ She nodded and strode towards the cars, calling, ‘Right-o, let’s go.’ It wasn’t that far into town. Nothing could go wrong. Well, unless Pushme broke down . . . ‘Do you want me to drive in front or behind?’ Gus asked. ‘Um, oh, I’m not sure. What do you usually do?’ Amelia glanced around again. Gus must have picked up on her nervousness, because he gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I’ve just had a thought,’ he said. ‘Why don’t we stick the bags in my ute, and you drive that? Just in case. I’ll follow in Pushme. If I break down, you can pick me up and we won’t have to transfer the money by the side of the road.’ It was as though he’d read her mind. ‘All right, that sounds like a bloody good idea.’ Amelia smiled up at him, her heart- rate slowing. They worked quickly, putting the four bags in his ute and swapping the others over. Then Amelia grabbed her jacket from Pushme’s passenger seat while surreptitiously tucking something into its pocket: a can of Bundy and Cola, to be enjoyed back in town. It was completely innocent—her version of a bottle of champagne—but she still hoped Gus hadn’t noticed it. She waved and smiled at Gus, then slid into the driver’s seat of his ute. Feeling silly, she glanced over her shoulder at the bags on the back passenger-side floor—as though they could have disappeared while her back was turned! She took a look around inside the ute. ‘Wow, pretty flash,’ she whispered, before carefully turning the key in the ignition. Testing the clutch and accelerator, Amelia drove out of the showground gates and onto the dark road, trying to get a feel for the ute. Gus followed close behind. She gave a huge sigh. ‘Let’s go.’ Her voice came out high-pitched and nervous as she pushed her foot down on the accelerator. The vehicle shot away and she let her foot up. Fortunately she could still see Pushme’s headlights, and she waited until they brightened. Then she cursed herself: why hadn’t she thought to hire two-way radios? They wouldn’t have mobile phone reception going through the hills. One day she’d learn to think ahead. One day. ‘Bloody hell, bloody hell.’ She’d entered the winding range road and there was no moon to cast its eerie light across the landscape. It was just dark, dark and more darkness. She checked for headlights behind her. Still there. She was bone-weary, and as she leaned forward, peering into the obscurity, the tension in her neck pulled tight. The headache that had been threatening for the last few hours rolled in full force. All you’ve got to do, she told herself, is get this money safely to Torrica. Only a few more k’s. Rounding a bend, she glanced in the rear-view mirror and couldn’t see Gus’s lights. Looking down at the dimly lit dashboard, she realised she was travelling way above the speed limit. ‘Whoops!’ Once again she lifted her foot from the accel- erator. It took a couple of minutes before the lights reappeared. ‘Oh thank God.’ Amelia’s breath whooshed out and she rolled her shoulders and neck, trying to ease the tightness. Her gaze strayed to the passenger’s seat where the Bundy and Cola was nestled in her jacket pocket. ‘I can’t wait to crack you,’ she told the can, then returned her attention to the road and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Her eyes swept back and forth, alert for kangaroos and any other wildlife. Soon she began to relax. ‘Ten more minutes and it will all be over,’ she whispered. ‘Over.’ She sighed and flicked a glance back to the money bags. Then, making a swift decision, she reached over and tugged the condensation-damp can from her jacket. ‘We’re just about there, and you, my friend, are all mine.’ The snap of the ring-pull was loud in the ute, and the first sip went down smooth as silk. Amelia felt a warm buzz creep through her as she took a gulp. A beeping sounded and she froze, before looking down to check all the alerts on the dash. Holy cow, well and truly over the speed limit! There was no way Pushme could keep up with a hundred and thirty. Better just chug along at eighty, until Gus catches up. Amelia crept along, casting frequent glances in the rear-view, until she noticed pinpricks of light. ‘Ah, there he is.’ She kept her speed down. The lights grew closer and closer. That was strange—she wasn’t going that slowly. A shiver went down her spine. Then she realised it was probably one of the trucks loaded up with cattle from the rodeo. Stop being silly. She put the can in a drink holder, thinking how different it was to the one in her car that was cluttered with bunches of coins, loose rubber bands and scraps of paper. How much nicer. Then her breath caught in her throat. The vehicle behind her was moving so quickly, it seemed to eat the night. It certainly wasn’t a truck. ‘What the hell?’ It closed in until there were only metres between the vehicles, then the driver flipped its lights onto high beam. With shaking hands, Amelia tipped up her mirror to take the glare away. Her throat felt as if it was closing over. Every bit of foreboding she’d experienced earlier returned. What could she do? She gripped the wheel, her knuckles white and posture rigid, staring at the road ahead. She hoped that the vehicle would pass her and race off into the darkness. Just some idiot anxious to get home. She saw a flash of orange and realised it was an indicator. The vehicle— it was a ute, she thought, a big one, highset, a dark colour, with tinted windows—was pulling out to overtake. She started to breathe a little easier, her shoulders relaxing . . . . . . until the other ute veered straight in front of her, cutting her off and hitting the brakes.
Posted on: Tue, 13 Jan 2015 02:34:29 +0000
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