Penguin Books Australia

One

When Emily Flanaghan hit the tree and her heart slammed out of rhythm, she didn't hear the rush of hooves as the other bush-race riders belted past her. Nor did she hear her silver-grey mare, Snowgum, roar in agony, screaming out a hideous guttural sound. As the mare's hooves, like dark river-stones, flailed the air, Emily was lost to the smell of blood of both horse and human. Instead, she felt herself drifting up through the filter of gumleaves, her panic subsiding. She marvelled at the imperviousness of gum-tree trunks, how solid they were, in all their silvery beauty.

Gone was the surge of fear she had felt when she and Snowgum had taken the full force of the big chestnut galloping beside them, hitting them broadside. Silver stirrup irons clanked, the horses grunted punch-drunk, and Snowgum was shunted off course. As the tree loomed directly in front of her, Emily had for an instant wished she'd never fought with bloody Clancy. She wished she'd never entered the race just to claim some ground back from him out of pride.

Images of her two girls, Meg and Tilly, flashed in her mind.

They had been down at the marquee with their mob of little friends, running amok. Both girls were lean country kids, with messy, sun-kissed ponytails and grubby faces, now waiting nervously to see their mum race her horse across the line.

Her youngest, Meg, had clung to her whispering, 'Mummy, don't go in that horsey race. Please,' her freckled nose scrunching up. She'd felt Meg's tears on her neck, prompting the sting of her own.

Then, in the seconds before she hit the tree, she thought of her dad, Rod, and the pain it would cause him to lose her at just twenty-six. She felt the weight of guilt in leaving him alone, now of all times, when a stroke of a pen in a faraway parliament could soon take their family mountain cattle runs away from him. Then she had a flash of her brother, Sam, on the other side of the world in a Nashville recording studio. Or, more likely, in a bar with a bourbon in his hand, wearing irresponsibility on his face along with his too-cute grin.

Finally, she saw Clancy. In the last split-second of life as she had known it, Emily felt the horror of Clancy's rage towards her. As she hit the tree, she felt an overwhelming sense of regret that she'd mucked up her life so badly. She had allowed herself to be stolen away – from herself, from her family and from her mountains.

Then came the pain of impact. As Snowgum gave way beneath her, Emily heard the sound of running water, and wondered why that water was slowing to a trickle. She didn't realise it was the sound of the blood in her veins moving slower and slower. She listened to an axe falling somewhere in the distance, quickly at first, then slowing to a few lazy haphazard strikes. She didn't know it was her heart, beating slower. Then slower. Then almost still. Just one . . . lazy . . . hack . . . at . . . a . . . time.

Emily's body lay crumpled and still on a dry rocky creek bank while a frenzy erupted around her. Race officials in fluoro orange vests clambered over tussocks and scrambled through shallow rocky waters. One of them punched words into a two-way radio as he ran.

'We got a rider down! We need an ambulance! It looks bad, real bad.'

On the golden river flat, where the makeshift tent city of the mountain cattlemen's get-together sprawled out for the two-day celebrations, people were still watching the race. The commentator, oblivious to the fall on the other side of the rise, continued to call the Mountain Cattlemen's Cup as the field of horses half slid down the jagged slope towards the finishing straight.

Horses were sheened with sweat, riders gripped tight with denim-clad thighs and, with gritted teeth, hissed their horses on. Adrenaline surged through the veins of horses and riders alike. The two leaders hugged the curve of the track tight. One rider's boot struck the fluttering triangular blue-and-yellow flags strung between star-pickets as his horse was bunted and shunted home. They flew past in a blur, belting for the line. Only three people in the crowd were ignoring the neck-and-neck finish.

Rod and his grandchildren, Meg and Tilly, searched desperately for Emily on her grey mare. As the rest of the field raced home with Emily nowhere in sight, Rod felt panic rising within him.

'Where's Mummy and Snowgum?' Meg said, squinting up at her grandfather.

Rod gripped both girls on their shoulders. 'I'll go find her. I promise. You stay here.' He tried to sound confident as he saw Meg's eyes fill with tears. A friend in the crowd stepped forward and guided Meg and Tilly away. Rod nodded his thanks to the woman and then he was gone, sprinting towards his ute.

A pretty bush nurse was doing up the silver press-studs of her blue overalls in the back of the ambulance. She pulled her long, chestnut hair back into a ponytail and smoothed the rumpled sheets of the stretcher bed, her rosy lips still raw from his stubbly kiss. She could still taste the beer, cigarettes and dust on his lips. Penny felt dizzy and giggly all at once, recalling the full force of his lust. Their encounter had been fast and furious.

She knew he had been watching her all day, like a predator stalking its prey. The very moment that Kev, her ambo crew partner, walked away to get a drink, Clancy had run to her, curved his arm around her waist and dragged her into the ambulance.

He'd kissed her hard on the lips and reefed open the studs on her overalls to clutch at her breasts. Then he'd lifted her onto the stretcher bed as she swiped aside the drip stands and oxygen equipment. He had wrenched down her overalls, tugged at his own leather belt and unzipped his jeans, revealing hips as snake-thin as a bull rider. He'd set at her in a flat-out gallop, the rhythm of his thrusts rising in crescendo as the commentator called the mountain race outside the ambulance. As Penny thrust her hips against his, she threw her head back and gripped his perfect backside tight. She felt like a sweating, blowing horse, and he, her rider. The ambulance rocked and she wanted to scream, but she had pressed her hand over her mouth and bitten down hard into the flesh of her palm.

When it was done, Clancy lay on her for a time, breathing heavily. Penny had shut her eyes and stroked his muscular shoulders, already beginning to long for the next encounter. They could only ever steal moments like that. She hoped no one had seen – he was not so subtle when he was drunk. But she'd smiled coyly as she smuggled him out from the ambulance and jammed his big black hat back on his head. Thankfully, everyone's eyes had been on the race.

In the lead-up to the Mountain Cattlemen's Cup, Kev had been watching Penny in the side mirror flirt with that selfish bugger, who acted as if his wife and two kids didn't exist. Disgusted, he'd turned the mirror away and eventually taken himself off to find a cuppa. He couldn't bear to watch.

Now, back in the cabin with his feet up on the dash, Kev was relieved to see the mongrel husband had gone. But suddenly the radio was alive with urgency and Kev knew immediately that it was a bad one.

'Penny!' he yelled. 'Get your arse in the front!'

*

In the creekbed, Rod knelt beside a course official, who had gingerly loosened Emily's protective vest. Rod cried out in anguish when he saw his daughter's twisted broken body. The translucent white glow of her normally tanned skin, the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth and the deathly stillness of her limbs injected fear through him.

The official bent over Emily's face, listening desperately at her pale lips for breath. Next to them, others were hauling on Snowgum's reins, pleading with the mare to stand so they could move her away from Emily's body. Snowgum's cries were so excruciating Rod wished the mare would just lie down and die. He couldn't bear to see Snowgum's white flanks coursing with blood and the way she twisted in pain. He heard someone scream out, 'Does anyone have a gun?' Rod's world spun. This couldn't really be happening. He looked at the lifeless body of his daughter, whispering, 'Please, God, no.'

She simply could not die. Not his Emily. Before Clancy had stolen her away, Emily had been the lifeblood of their family and of their whole mountain community. This beautiful girl somehow represented their future. For years Rod and his sister, Flo, had battled to keep the mountain cattleman traditions alive in the face of sustained attacks by politicians, bureaucrats and environmental idealists, mostly with the hope that Emily would one day come home to them. Each time Rod had trudged to another meeting to negotiate his grazing rights with the ever-changing guard of government men, he had held Emily there in his heart as a reason not to give up. Emily's presence revived him and kept the weary older generation of cattlemen laughing and hoping. But then she had moved away with Clancy. Rod had watched, heartsick, mute, as Emily's marriage ground down her soul and eroded her spirit. The bright flame of her youth began to dull.

Now, here she was, all but extinguished, and Rod felt the sting of guilt. He'd been the one to encourage her to ride in the Cattlemen's Cup. He had thought somehow it was the start of having her come home to him. He lay his hand on her cheek. Now here she was leaving him in the worst way imaginable.

'We're gunna have to start CPR,' the official said, glancing fearfully at Rod. 'She's not breathing and I can't get a pulse.'

Rod squinted down the track, looking desperately for the ambulance. As the man gently eased Emily's helmet off and bent forward to breathe life-giving oxygen into her mouth, Rod was shocked to see that her long, dark hair had been chopped off, the scissor hacks still angry and angular against the softness of her heart-shaped face.

'Emily?' he cried. 'Emily, stay with us. Emily!'